


This broken world keeps turning

by Ruuuka



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Endgame, Brotherly Angst, Everyone Is Alive, Gen, Muscular Thor, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Canon Fix-It, Protective Thor (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23801341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruuuka/pseuds/Ruuuka
Summary: AU after a more fandom-friendly (&Thor-centered) Endgame. Loki reappears, but not the comfortable way. Both him and Thor face a challenge different from anything before.(moved over from FF.Net to continue here)
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Day 0

Thor was contacted immediately when the sorcerer appeared in the street that led to the Avengers Tower. The god of thunder was having his daily cocoa in the flat he rented for the time being; within the first minute of the call on the Stark-phone, he was already running to the top of the building, to be able to leap over rooftops instead of smashing through the walls in his way with the Stormbreaker. This was harmless to Midgardians, and still faster than their public transport.

The people down there yelped or cursed at the dry thunderstorm arriving suddenly out of the summer heat, but it wasn’t quite under his control: it was the manifestation of the questions welling up in him, and his impatience to arrive finally and see what exactly was going on.

It was the one thing he hadn’t thought of while listening to the Iron Man through the phone at the start of his rash journey. At the venue of the supposed battle, four members of the Avengers, who were in the city presently, were standing idly in a wide circle, apparently torn about what to do. Iron Man and Natasha were prepared to attack at any given moment, while the Hulk and young Spiderman hurried to stop any brave onlookers and send them back into the surrounding crowd amongst clumsy apologies. The portended fight was either not taking place, or it had already finished, and Thor sincerely hoped on the former. The villain whose arrival had launched the well-practiced defensive mechanism of the heroic team lay unconscious in the centre of a concrete crater.

Unlike his teammates, Thor didn’t hesitate to descend on the rubble: him being the strongest member, and because he deemed the situation urgent – for that moment, he didn’t even understand why the others hadn’t acted upon it.

He arrived to the bottom losing his balance and slipping, landing on his side without a sound, clambering up immediately to drop on his knees at the aimed spot. If the Avengers said or yelled something to him, it escaped his attention. He was entirely concerned with the dilemma of whether to move the twisted body or leave it for now to avoid harming it further. His look avoided it on its own, that’s the only thing he knew. The dark locks were hiding the face, but he had recognised the outfit at the first instant. He still reached for the hair, as it was the least risky to touch, with the coarse and clumsy fingers he just noticed to be trembling.

The eyes, the eyes glowing so red under the shade of the eyelashes were gazing downwards, but as the hair lifted, they opened up at the god of thunder. A shudder ran through him at that; he didn’t dwell over the reason. For now, his mind numb, his gaze fixed on the only movement he perceived from his brother, he was occupied with words to say, soothing words and reassuring words and question words and swear-words, short sentences at most, and with the mystery of not receiving a response, not a single little one, not a sigh, not a moan, not an insulted huff of dismissal. Straightening up on his knees, he roared for help to his teammates that were already descending the slope to get to him; a helicopter was hammering the air above them, seeking a place to land. Help had already been called before he had got here, he thought, and a slight breeze of reassurance warmed him up as he realised that his Midgardian friends weren’t hostile to the one he would have defended at the cost of their alliance.


	2. Day 1

It was one of the longest nights he had lived through during the past centuries. He had been ushered out of the hospital wing by stern commands and imperious reasoning, so he spent the dark hours sitting on a corridor chair near the entrance, facing the glassed wall on the other side, a fist wrapped in the other palm and pressed tightly to his mouth, taking even breaths from the heavy air and staring at the storm, the never before seen, rainless flashes of thunder among the trees. It’s not what his eyes desired to see; his mind craved to take another look, to ascertain that it wasn’t his imagination, to make sure it was still there, that it was safe, that it wasn’t being the monster that the earthen healers must have been seeing.

Friends approached him a few times during the night, but there was nothing he could tell them now, so he remained motionless. Only later did he realise that he could have shared with them what he had never spoken of before: he could have explained to them what they saw for the first time today, the crimson eyes, the silver-blue skin, the carvings in it. The people of Midgard were excessively aloof towards anything unknown. Was he to trust the ones currently working inside?

The question took hold and dwelt idly in him until the first rays of daylight filtered through the tattered foliage. Then it was tucked aside by the exit of Bruce. The man stopped at the entrance of the wing and waited till Thor rose to face him.

“How is he?” asked the thunder god.

“It depends on what _fine_ means to you. His life isn’t in danger. He’s not awake, though.”

“Is he still-…?”

The scientist eyed him with a curious look, hoping that Thor would name what they all have seen on Loki today. But the god was stuck, so he finished instead.

“…blue? Yes, he is. Does it mean something bad?”

Thor shook his head for a lengthy time, seemingly deep in thought and not entirely sure of the answer himself.

“I think it simply means he can’t maintain the spell that makes him look Aesir.”

“Spell?”

“Yes. Perhaps he’s unable to produce magic at all, since this is one of the most basic spells that are made to last without effort. But I’m merely guessing.”

“It might not be far from the truth, however. You see…” the shorter man hesitated, his eyes suddenly avoiding Thor’s, his voice softening. “he’s suffered severe injuries at the spine, ones that most species wouldn’t survive for a moment. Now, being a god has aided him at staying alive, but… for now, all the neural-… you know, the synapses-… well, his body is almost entirely paralysed.”

The pale eyebrows furrowed while the information was processed.

“Paralysed? Is he cursed?”

“No. Or not that I know of, at least. This is definitely not from a curse, it’s from the damage the spinal cord has suffered while…” Bruce touched the back of his own neck to indicate what he’d been reluctant to say straight. “It’s like someone just crushed his neck.”

“That someone did,” Thor hissed in a tone between a sigh and a curse.

“They did? I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- We’ll soon find out how much can be done, all right?”

The thunder god had been taking his time to pick from the possible reactions that flooded his mind. His sea-deep voice was weak when he asked:

“How long until you find out more?”

Bruce seemed to be pleased with his choice, because the ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

“Someone from Wakanda is on her way to examine him. But even if recovery is deemed possible, it won’t happen in a day. Do you plan to be by his side meanwhile?”

“Naturally, I do.”

“That’s good, because he probably hates everybody else here.”

The god smiled and stepped through the door next to his friend, patting his shoulder meanwhile.

“Thor,” Bruce called after him, and when the blond turned, he noticed that the smile wasn’t mirrored. The warm-hearted scientist’s eyes were grim as he continued. “Don’t think for a moment that it will be easy. Brace yourself.”

Thor nodded faintly, and he continued on the pale corridor lined with large windows yielding insight at the content of each room. A weight started growing on his heart after Bruce’s last request, which he found odd, given that he had never been known as someone afraid of the fiercest challenge.

It wasn’t a large wing, ten rooms at most, all with different functions, serving solely the Avengers’ purposes in the Tower. He had no need to search either, because the keen look of Dr. Strange on the thunder god told him it was where he was heading.

“Just arrived by teleport, I presume?” Thor inquired as a greeting when they met in front of the closed slide door.

“Indeed. As soon as I’ve been connected. I don’t mean to disturb. Go on.”

The blonde couldn’t help feeling that the former doctor was studying his face with the intention to read it. But since he had been given leave, he turned away from him and pulled the soundless door aside.

Quiet beeps of different tones hit his ears while he drew it closed behind himself, and an unknown, though harmless smell surrounded him. While his eyes darted around, it felt like the floor drained power out of his legs in one single gulp, even though his heavy steps didn’t hesitate to carry him to the buttery white bed. His mouth, suddenly dry, opened to ask about the sight on reflex before he realised that no one was around to hear his questions; they still kept on ringing in his head. Why was his brother restrained from speaking by the mask if he wasn’t a prisoner? What harm did this room’s air do to him that called for replacing it with the artificial breathing? Was the case around the neck so sturdy for a reason? These noisy things around were Earthen healing mediums, right? What were the countless wires for? Where did they continue after coiling under the blanket? Did they pierce the skin like the ones in the arms? What were they injecting into him? Why were they measuring his thoughts as well? Did these healers know what they were doing to the foreign body? Could they fix it the same way as the once flourishing Asgardian technology, which healed without touch? Everything here was unnervingly… physical. The object of their healing was a mere body, a mass of flesh and bones. One that was utterly different from what these machines were originally built for. Did they do the job?

He reminded himself that he would be able to get answers later. He tucked the urging questions behind attention on the shape of his brother that he had barely seen once. The eyes were shut tight now, their vigorous crimson hidden, without any movement under the eyelids: he was lost in a dreamless sleep. The skin shone like it was covered in minute pearls of sweat frozen on it; thin, curved lines ran like runes carved by a scorching needle to cover forehead, cheeks and chin. Grooves that were not seen in the other form followed some of the facial features: the deep-set eyes, the mildly lined brows, the mouth thin as always and the same silver-blue as the skin around it. They gave the impression of faint scorn covering up warm features. Thor believed he had an idea why Laufey had been ashamed of his new-born, why he had planned to keep him hidden all his life. Loki had always been feared for his actions, not for his looks: while they were young, he had a tough time sending through his rigour with a single blink the way Thor could. To put weight on his will against an opponent, be it the enemy or a cheery friend, he usually needed to prove it by actions. And that he was good at, so he managed well within Asgard. But if he had remained in Jotunheim, he might not have gained much respect from the ice-hearted beasts at all, since his naturally inherited strength was minute compared to theirs: his skills revolved around the sorcery he had learnt from Mother with relentless work and a thirst for knowledge. If grown up among the giants, he'd most likely have remained a weak link.

What was he in Midgard?

And the circle was completed. He shook his head unwittingly to get the pointless question out of his mind. Loki was all right, he was among allies now. Thor was here to make sure of that. And he was here to let him know he was at the right place.

The latter occurred to him because he recorded a flutter of the eyelashes. His palm unwittingly grabbed the edge of the cool mattress as he bent closer and waited. Though he expected a long time to pass in impatience, the dark eyebrows ran together after a few guided breaths. Thor stared at them in a vain attempt to match the notion to any of his brother’s moods that he knew from the past; as if the knowledge would have given him some foothold in the current swirl of his shapeless thoughts. Yes, they knew each other well; yes, they had seen each other injured and recovering several times. Nothing was really new at the present. It was the routine of warrior brothers.

Still, he followed every flinch on that face wide-eyed, like mortals do in fear. Perhaps it was the comment of Bruce, perhaps instinct, or simply the fact that he wanted to reassure his brother of something that was unfamiliar even to himself. It was not something to show to the one he was to comfort.

He composed himself by the time the crimson flashed at him.

“Brother,” he went ahead to speak softly. “You’re safe.”

The eyes widened as they darted around, the mechanical noises increased, Thor's look shot at them for a moment before returning his brother’s.

“You’re being taken care of,” he said to the dismay shown in it. “You’ll have to stay put for now.”

He was sure that Loki didn’t appreciate his mouth being stuffed, or the surge or air being pushed into him in a defined rhythm, he didn’t need to see the eyes shutting tight at the notion. The beeping noises also intruded the thunder god’s strife to catch Loki's attention. This was not going well.

As it occurred, the medics were aware of it as well, because one of them entered the room at the next moment, accompanied by two nurses and short sentences of unknown expressions. They seemed somewhat more composed than how Thor felt and his brother looked; but again, they seemed to know more, too, although no one had time to answer the god’s questions. An additional shot was injected under the blue skin on the arm, a small light was flashed into the eyes one by one, the surrounding screens got examined as they returned to their original rhythms.

“Send him out, and then remove the life support,” the doctor muttered before walking towards the exit without a glance at the thunder god.

He winced as Thor grabbed his arm.

“What’s just happened to him?” Thor inquired, his voice soft but its depth eliminating hope for refusal.

The doc suppressed a sigh and indicated him to follow.

“He’s just woken up,” he let him know the obvious while leading him away on the corridor. “A bit sooner than expected, due to our lack of knowledge about the exact strength of his species. People tend to get overexcited when they find themselves in a new situation without remembering how they got there, especially when it occurs they have no control over it whatsoever. That’s what’s just happened to him. Have you been told about his condition?”

“That he’s... paralysed? Yes.”

“Then there is only one thing I can say: give him time.”

He patted the god’s upper arm as an indication of sympathy, and he hurried into another room. But Thor was not left to brood in himself.

“What do you think?” Dr. Strange asked behind him, leaning to the wall with arms crossed.

Thor turned to face him.

“About what?”

“Him. Is he with you?”

The frown on the god’s face showed he didn’t understand the question; but instead of explaining, Stephen nodded.

“Later,” he said dismissively before stepping backwards into a quickly opening and closing dimensional gate.

The skies had quieted down outside, but the clouds lay heavily over the city in idle waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story started around 2018, and is still being written, as an attempt for mental relief, without a desire for perfection. I probably still lack some crucial information and use names, personalities, locations, etc wrong; feel free to diss/correct it if you enjoy being helpful. And yes, there are tons of superfluous descriptions: my personal kink. Thank you if you do read, and thanks if you even comment~


	3. Day 2

The night had barely passed, and he was already out of the room appointed for him, wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans as it was habitual among earthlings. He turned up in the hospital wing when the night shift was just ending. He found Loki asleep, breathing on his own, still trapped in the peculiar collar, but this time among significantly less of the wires. He spent two hours brooding next to the bed – much quieter than yesterday – and since his brother was unresponsive to his soft calls as well, he left the stifling atmosphere. During the next period, he was seen idly staring out windows and balconies, heedless of whether it was in the clouded but stuffy weather on the streets or in the air-conditioned rooms inside.

"So," Tony chatted him up at one point. "I hear this is Loki's true form?"

Thor nodded shortly, and seeing his lack of protest, the billionaire took over the neighbouring window, now both figures staring at the world outside.

"What exactly is he?"

"He's a Jotunn. Son of Laufey, the former king of frost giants. Laufey used to be the arch enemy of our father until he took over the giants. Loki was adopted on the day of victory."

"Excuse me for purposefully not following you, but you know what a tactless prick I am – son of Laufey, then _our_ father?"

"Odin was a loving father to both of us. Laufey wouldn't have deserved this title; he was already ashamed to show his son in public back then, as far as I heard."

"Well, he certainly isn't the prideful size of a giant."

"No one knows more than this about his origins. Whether he himself has gained any knowledge about it since then is also a mystery. You see, the circumstances didn't give us much time for idle chatter."

"Sad," Tony agreed as interpersonal formalities demanded. "So what do we have to expect from him in this form, in case he recovers?"

Thor shook his head subtly.

"He's still himself, the change only applies to his appearance. He's not going savage like the Hulk, if that's what you mean."

"Any possible grudges for conquering his father?"

"None."

"How certain are you?"

"I'd bet my life."

"Fine, we'll look into that in other ways. Then how about the culture of frost giants? Is killing or blowing up things part of their rituals?"

"The frost giants?" the god sent a glance at his companion over his shoulder. "They certainly enjoy making places desolate after occupying them, but of their rituals, I know nothing. Loki's always been the one who enjoyed reading for factual information like this; I'm more for obtaining practical experience."

"Then you might know some things about their fighting style, at least?"

"Definitely. They live and battle in tribes. They can form primal weapons out of stone and ice at the spur of the fight, and they possess the ability to freeze things. They rely heavily on their size, weight and strength, as you might guess. They attack in a disorganised manner, occasionally apply some basic strategies."

"And if they're on their own?"

"They're never on their own. Like I said, they move in tribes."

"If they're separated from their tribe. Do they search for them, call them? In what ways do they seek to re-join them?"

Thor's eyes didn't follow the flash of light sneaking away behind the clouds.

"Loki has no one to call. He grew up an Asgardian. If he does have a tribe... it's me."

Tony's half-suppressed smirk lingered in the air after he had left.

When the private jet landed in the late morning, Shuri headed for the infirmary without detour, followed by the welcoming hosts. As if her general friendliness had never existed, she merely acknowledged the presence of Thor instead of a greeting, with the sole purpose of ascertaining that the target door was the one behind him. She entered the room, leaving her companions torn between following her or not, as she didn't voice any requests. In the end, Thor alone was brave enough to step after her, remaining near the entrance with arms crossed to restrain his own awkward presence.

Ignoring him, the young woman bent over the motionless figure. Her fingers hovered an inch above his forehead for a moment, then her gaze followed their way as she led them over the cheekbone, the collar around the neck, a bare shoulder, the entire length of the blanket, down to the toes. Having experienced the work of medics in Wakanda personally after the latest war, Thor knew this act was something different from invisible magic or earthen technology, and still connected to healing in a way only the people of that nation understood.

The woman then returned to the collar, gazing at it for a minute seriously, as if she had actually seen through the white material. Surprise washed over the thunder god when she spoke up.

"Loki of Asgard, son of Odin," she said, her gaze fixed on the closed eyelids of light blue, like she didn't know or care that he seemed to be asleep; "I am Shuri from Wakanda. I came here to _see_ you, and I see that you're entrapped in a dysfunctional body. It's maddening. It's frightening. It's humiliating. I know. Many others here know."

The flaming red eyes opened up without blinking, gazing downwards into the distance next to her figure, and she went on.

"I'm going to examine you and know what can be done."

It looked like she had been waiting for a response, because she only moved after a few seconds, but as it occurred, she might have simply given the sorcerer time to prepare. She flapped the blanket aside with a single movement, revealing the entire body in its nakedness. The vivid crimson disappeared behind the eyelashes again, and Thor shifted uncomfortably but reluctant to give a sound: now he found his own presence highly disturbing. But so was Shuri's; she should have been more tactful, regardless of the urgency. Loki most likely despised anyone, his brother included – if not _especially_ him –, witnessing his vulnerable state like this. It only added to Thor's uneasiness that he couldn't be sure what Shuri saw exactly. That completely nonchalant gaze could have seen a person, a stranger, as well as an object of her current task, or a freak in the current world, a demon, a beast. She was human, an earthling. She had grown up as part of this narrow-minded, though generally kindly society.

Without revealing her thoughts, she then returned to the end of the bed, lifting her wrist above the feet slender but wired with strong bones. Her bracelet emitted thin stripes of blue light, which ran along the runed body – so slim – as she drove her hand up to the head. Then a shapeless hologram appeared in mid-air in front of her, a seemingly chaotic cluster of flashing dots and connecting strings. She spent no longer than a half minute turning it over with airy sweeps of her fingertips, and it already disappeared.

"A very dense cellular structure," she noted softly meanwhile. "It parallels that of the gods. The Earth must struggle to carry this many of your kind."

She drew the blanket back onto the Jotunn, and she spoke to him again.

"It'll be a lengthy process; and for that, you will be taken to Wakanda. The diagnosis will be set up tonight."

"It's already been set up, you can talk to the local healers," the thunder god interrupted, earning another short blink from her.

"Our work requires more information," Shuri answered before turning back to the sorcerer. "Whatever will be the case, you'll need help for the upcoming period. Is your brother coming along to look after you, or should we assign a nurse for your care?"

Thor observed her one-sided conversation with interest, a raised eyebrow commenting the wrongly addressed question. And she went on.

"Neither of them is anything you'd like, but no one is obliged to carry the responsibility of letting you die. It shall be your brother: his physical strength comes handy, given your body structure. Now, won't you look at me, so I can see your consent?"

The eyes remained closed.

"I take it you're not willing to cooperate for now. I will still treat you, of course, so rest assured. Right now, you don't have a choice, but you don't need to resign. Keep the flame ablaze in you. It's painful as it burns, but if it dies out, you'll never awaken: if you get free without it, you'll fall apart as lifeless dust. So rage. Fume. Let your soul howl from the injustice fallen upon you. And I will set you free in the way I am told."

With that, she finished discussing matters with the unresponsive creature. Thor was left alone with him before he would have asked any questions. First of all, he stepped up to his brother while he was still awake.

"Loki," he breathed. "How are you holding up?"

He felt he ought to have expected the lack of the slightest response. It was a tad bit insulting, to be honest. A thumb and the bottom of his palm touched the silver-blue forehead to catch his attention; he was surprised to wipe chilled wetness off the skin.

"Brother," his tone became commanding next. "Look at me, we're alone now. Is something wrong?"

Yes, in fact; currently, everything was wrong according to his brother, Thor knew that very well. But some things could be remedied, and that's what Loki refused to see while sulking, pushing others into uncertainty about whether he was conscious or not. It was definitely not all right at this situation.

The god of thunder tried touching his forehead and temple again, feeling strong heat seep through the thin layer of cold skin. Baffled by the contrast, his hand slid down to a shoulder to see if it was the same, and that's when he noticed that part of the sorcerer's face had taken up its more usual colour. The parts where it had contacted his hand. He watched it fade back into blue in a few seconds. Before he could have repeated it for confirmation, a voice made him pull away in start.

"A frost giant? To Africa?"

Hiding his surprise, Thor glanced at Dr Strange.

"I heard earthlings have something called knocking," he reminded with his best intentions.

"I'm sorry. Bad habit," the former medic showed a faint, apologetic smile for a moment. Then he pointed towards Loki with his chin. "The sweating is no big deal, otherwise the docs would be on it by now. Most likely, the climate is a bit warm for his kind, that's all."

"He's never had a problem with it before."

"Well, how often does he appear in this form?"

"He's always in this form, only hidden behind a spell."

"What spell is it? A protective one?"

There was that peculiar shine in the summer sky blue eyes as they looked at the magician, which had been seen by Rocket and some others and could be mistaken for a smile if you didn't know the grieving circumstances.

"In all honesty, I don't know a thing about it," he admitted.

Stephen generously gave him a minute to dive in self-pity about how little he had cared for his brother's personal matters so far. Having siblings sure was hard.

"May I?" he asked when the appointed time was up, stepping towards the bed with the intention to examine the other sorcerer's current spiritual power, and possibly his capacity left unfilled from the past.

"Would be better if you let him be in peace now," Thor muttered, his fists pressing to the mattress at the edge, head bent. "You must have seen that he craves solitude."

Stephen nodded, suppressing a sigh, and he left the room on foot.

That night, Thor had a nightmare about Thanos, one he hadn't had in a while. He dreamed that the warlord had never died, and he never would while he was remembered by the wrecks he had left behind. He arrived to reclaim all the lives he had chosen to take in the past. He stood above the bed, in it lay Loki in his Aesir form, and the giant hand barely even pinched up the blanket when the sorcerer's body disintegrated into ashes. The moment weighed heavily on Thor's soul, waking him up and causing him to lie unmoving in the dark with eyes wide open for a long time afterwards.


	4. Day 3

The next morning reached him in the hidden complex within Africa, in a very narrow but well equipped apartment - at least for human commoners - with an entire wall of smoked glass looking out onto the campus, an area so stuffed with buildings that they were clambering on top of each other, bending and diving under as if they had been warring for space inside the limiting barrier. Their shapes weren't the only peculiarity, however; Thor had never seen immobile earthen constructions with roofs made of tiles this shiny. Besides the countless darkened windows, these threw about the sky’s dim light multiplied and distorted like it was their playtoy.

This time sporting a darker shirt with the same pair of jeans, he headed to the centre for the appointment he was graciously offered last night, another one representing a milestone in his life. Namely he had just realised that he was farther from being a king than ever, whilst there was another ruler on Earth mightier before him than he used to dream himself to be. The power of that one was unmatched: he held life in his hands.

 _Who do you bring here, god of thunder_ , asked King T'Challa last night in a tone meant for intruders, and Thor instantly knew that he was facing an unbreakable wall: the willingness to betray even the closest ally in protection of his people. _He's my brother, an Asgardian_ ; he had nothing else acknowledged to reason with during the entire conversation. Naturally, it wouldn’t move the ruler of the hidden country; with a heavy heart and unyielding stubbornness in his look, he would throw it back: _that's not what he is to us, not to my people. You may be my friend, but the one you hold dear is a mortal threat to the world._

_He redeemed himself last time. He gave his life fighting Thanos, like many others who are now celebrated._

_He did not. He is here, alive, but not resurrected._

_He's harmless now._

_He may be tricking you all. He has no honour in our eyes._

_That's why_ I _am here for him to plead._

Thor had ended the torturous debate with lowering to a knee and bowing his head in front of the human king. It didn’t mean anything in this land, but T’Challa knew what it meant to the god of thunder, and his own knowledge of it enraged him. _Humbling yourself like I was a tyrant will not make my people safe from him,_ he bellowed. _You know well why he cannot be allowed here!_

Thor was one of the few who knew, and he would have cared deeply under different circumstances. It was a reason that ruled out everything else after the occurrences in the near past.

_There is no one else to turn to. You can have command over my remaining people; though the mightiest warriors have all perished before Thanos, these were also Asgardians and just as fierce in their loyalty. You’ve just gained reputation by the saviour of the Universe bowing to you; that could bring you the support of many other nations. Please, I have nothing else to give._

His own words, these foreign sounds fleeing through his tongue and lips from the inner dread of giving up what he almost got back, they now lingered among his thoughts while he treaded across lanes and stairs to reach the appointed destination. His look stuck to the ground despite passers-by acknowledging his fame with friendly greetings; he felt it tiresome to respond to a land that might betray him in the next hour.

 _Be careful not to think too much_ , Bruce had suggested half-heartedly before departure from New York. This wasn't the situation he referred to, but it did sound justified now as well. Thor was still feeling a readiness to act at the spur of opportunity, even though there was nothing else to do than wait out the soon-to-come answer.

T'Challa awaited him in the round throne, with an elbow on his knee, surrounded by the slender, unmoving figures of fellow decision makers.

"I don't want your Asgardians," he pointed out after Thor had entered and wordless looks were exchanged. "Who would they be willing to follow after their king, the mighty hawk, knelt before a tiny mouse? But I don't want fame either. We need our anonymity to be kept. There is nothing you can give to aid us."

"Tell me what I have to do then."

"Your insistence is of no use now."

"I'm dreading that it will be, if I need to become the greater threat to Wakanda."

The king leaned to the backrest in the minute's silence.

"This could have been settled yesterday, if it weren't for your out-of-place kindness towards humans. But there won't be need for the Stormbreaker," he noted looking at the crude axe hanging loosely from the god's hand. "Shuri already started working last night."

Thor frowned in surprise, and along stirred the other leaders. Arguments started in the land's ancient language that only faintly reached his attention. Fiery grunts were thrown towards the king, who responded to each in a firm tone, keeping his gaze forward. Thor saw him as an immovable fort right now - a view so well-known from Odin, father to all.

When it quieted down, T'Challa spoke to him in a broken voice.

"Look at what you've done. My country stands divided. Your stubborn head, my self-willed sister, your ill-fated brother have brought upon us what no nation can escape during its history. Leave for now and pray that it doesn't bring our downfall. That's what you have to do. If any other decision is made, I will let you know at once, but you will have no say in it whatsoever."

"I'm eternally in your debt, King T'Challa,” Thor uttered the only thing his attention bore right now. In his mind, he was already seeing his brother’s form placed back into the custody of earthen devices that stole courage on sight and disrespected his entire being – but alive. Alive and breathing and closer to recovery with every minute.

The sun was peeking out from the heavy clouds when he stepped onto a balcony to leap over rooftops towards the infirmary. It lightened up the place, though didn’t ease the heat stuck under the thick layer of condensed vapour. The moment he left the air-conditioned room, water precipitated on his bare skin like sweat.

His journey was stopped in the main lobby, where Shuri approached in the company of a white-coated man.

“He’s asleep for a while,” she said touching the thunder god’s arm. “Come, eat with me.”

“Get some sleep, Shuri,” the doctor suggested to her. “Don’t go anywhere else.”

She nodded at him dismissively, and then led Thor out of the building, out of the entire protected complex. Where only thick forest and wildlife should have been, there was a hidden farm under the densest foliage cut high. Shuri embraced the aged owner like her father, and she bid Thor to follow her to the stables. He instantly recognized the noble steeds – their ancestors must have been gifts from the gods during their early visits to this planet. Their heritage was the same as those he used to ride in Asgard: their muscle build, the pointy ears, the restlessly twitching oval pupils, the short, wiry fur, even their sharp scent. He left the Stormbreaker in a corner before they chose two of the beasts and galloped through uncharted paths to the nearest village.

“Not a word about this,” she warned him when they were riding slowly on the semi-paved road among huts built from dirt. “This path does not exist, especially not to my brother.”

“Why do you disobey him?”

She didn’t answer until they sat down in a shabby pub, the only stone building in the settlement, which captured and held even denser and hotter air than what dominated outside. She had potatoes with a salad that smelled like garlic and was full of small white flower heads; Thor trusted in her judgement and earned a plate that contained mostly dried meat, spiced for a pleasing flavour.

“I want to take part in protecting our land, so I’m here,” Shuri said. “But the strict rules suffocate me. Juqula is the same, too.”

“The old farmer?”

“Yes. He never fought against the King, he just quietly snuck out of that prison. In there, we’re basically hostages to safety. It’s a sacrifice T’Challa is willing to make but I’m incapable of.”

“This is what made you help my brother then. How can I pay it back to you?”

“Not yet. I’ve done nothing.”

“Didn’t you work all night?”

She ate in silence for a minute, her look fixed on her food.

“You know, I’m not a medic. But I couldn’t ask anyone else to go against the King’s will. And I know these machines well, I created them myself.”

Thor studied her face in hope to find out whether she was bearing good or bad news.

“What exactly did you do?”

“Brain scans and the sort.”

“Brain scans? What for?”

“For damage.” She glanced at him then questioningly, but at his arched eyebrows, she realised he had no idea, so she went on. “He was strangled; that means a break at the blood flow to the brain, a lack of oxygen supply. This results in severe harm, death at certain areas, and related functions going wrong or stopping entirely. Like, he could lose the ability to walk for good, or he could forget who you are; he could stop seeing colours, recognising shapes, being able to read, to mention only a few examples. That's what I was checking for. And I had pleasing results.”

“You still don’t look thrilled,” the thunder god noted, since he grasped more of the uneasiness in her voice than the content of her lengthy explanation. Now he suspected that there was something he was required to help her share.

“I do. I am,” she responded meanwhile. “It seems that everything is in order in that area. My guess is, his brain was able to repair itself due to the accelerated healing ability of his kind."

"Then what causes the current problem?"

"The spine, that's more complicated because it's made of bones. See, the brain could resume working because the flexible blood vessels weren't too damaged, and blood started travelling again as soon as he was released. Bones, however… A fragmented bone doesn’t puzzle itself back together without mechanical intervention. And thus, the broken neural pathways in the discontinuous spinal cord can’t join up to carry messages between the brain and other parts of the body. Normally, in this state, the body gives up and dies. The material that gods are made of is apparently more persistent: the fragments, though unable to heal, are still alive, waiting to function again. How long has it been? Thor, when was he shoved to the edge of death?”

The god of thunder cast his gaze downwards while he forced his mind back to the times he wished to forget.

“You know when Thanos arrived to Earth. Right before that was when-” The faltering in his voice was not a sign of weakness: he just remembered something, and it stole clouds into the summer blue in his eyes. “He wasn’t a Jotunn.”

Shuri eyed him confused.

“He wasn’t?”

“I should have known… He didn’t turn into a Jotunn. His sorcery wasn’t gone. He didn’t die. I might have saved him if I pay more attention.”

It took a second for the African woman to grasp what he was talking about. With quick wit, she reached over the table to squeeze his wrist, drawing his attention to herself from his own thoughts.

“What would you have done?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. Because there was nothing to do there. There was no equipment around to help him in any way.”

“The ship had an infirmary, maybe there-”

“There wasn’t. Recovery was all up to his own system. Take my word for it, and no guilt, Thor, not now. You won’t have time for it.”

He remained silent for a bit, gazing at the hand on his arm that would heal his brother instead of him. Then he glanced up at the dark eyes again.

“What will be my task?” he inquired.

“I’ll teach you when it’s time.”

“When?”

She drew back her hand then, crossing them in front of herself on the table.

“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted quietly, and a hint of worry appeared in her evasive look.

To her following silence, he responded with growing impatience.

“Shuri, tell me what’s going on with my brother.”

“All right.” She leaned back with a sloppy, helpless movement, still guarding her torso with her arm. “I’ll be honest. We're talking about fractures, millions of minuscule splinters. It's not a task that medics have done before, and not one that anyone would take up after having sworn to protect life.”

“He isn’t in a suitable condition,” Thor protested shifting on his chair. “This is not the state he should be left in. You said you could help him-”

“I said I’d examine him.”

"And that you’d treat him.”

“And so I will. But I can’t count on any support. What I’m planning to do holds immense risk. I can work on him like on an organic machine, joining pieces that carry electric messages. But that’s connected to artificial intelligence. I can neither understand nor control a natural brain, so my work could turn out to be just blind dabbling instead of helpful interference.”

“And so you feel tormented.”

“Extremely. If I prove incapable, things can go very wrong.”

There, it was out. The relief Thor felt mixing into his anxiety was visible on Shuri’s expression, too. Suddenly, he felt like he just understood her: since Loki’s mind had stayed intact due to whatever blessed miracle, the more was at stake with the interference.

“You need my consent,” he guessed.

“Not really. I have his.”

“You do?”

“All living beings crave a better life. Until he can do otherwise, I believe he is to be aided at it. Of course, it isn’t to everyone’s liking in Wakanda, but you have no need to worry even if you meet disapproval somewhere.”

“I’m endlessly grateful that you concern with him,” the thunder god responded. “It’s far from me to stir trouble unnecessarily, so do whatever you must to keep up the peace. Lock him up, if you’re asked so, restrain him. I’ll talk to him if necessary.”

Finally, a smile glinted in her black eyes.

“Thor, he isn’t held for a demon here, not without providing a reason. You’re the one that needs to stop worrying about that. If you’ve walked through the gate of Wakanda, it means T’Challa has already made a decision. There won’t be going back on the path he chose.”

“I reckon you’re the one who made the choice in the first place.”

“I made no choice, except for going against my king’s will. Lucky for me, he just made the decision that matches my personal stand.”

“You’re brave.”

“Or foolhardy. We’ll see.”

“I know now that it’s great responsibility you’re taking upon yourself. I wouldn’t hesitate to lift it off your shoulders if I could.”

“You do your own part, that’ll be more than enough. It gives the purpose to my work.”

“Talking in riddles like that will eventually drive me mad. How long until it’s suitable for me to know anything specific?”

Her gaze settled on his face during her answer.

“Your task will be to stand by him. Not to cower away.”

“That’s kind of insulting. When have you seen me being a coward?” he inquired with the most benevolence he could muster. But he didn’t force the matter longer when she refrained from arguing, because just now, exhaustion showed on her face.

“He’d been starved when he arrived here,” she noted softly, like she was talking to herself. “I’ll focus on the mouth and throat first. Then he can also gain back his ability to speak.”

"Unless you find that the brain actually isn’t intact."

They stared at the magician suddenly sitting at the third side of the table, with lemongrass tea in front of himself. Doctor Strange clearly ignored their disapproval of his entry and cut into the middle.

“Memory loss,” he announced.

“Could be,” Shuri muttered, her look sharp on him. “I meant to speak about it when it becomes certain.”

“It’s already certain. Healing means producing cells anew, repairing damaged ones and getting rid of dead ones. Former cell assemblies, specific formations of nodes and their connections are definitely not reproduced.”

“You can’t know that, you’ve never worked with-”

“I delved deep enough in it during my studies,” he assured her before glancing at Thor. “Gods are made of the same matter of the Universe, too. I’m only saying this now to have you prepared.”

The god of thunder had just stirred out of his surprise.

“If you’re knowledgeable about this, can’t you help out?”

“I’m not familiar with Wakanda’s technology. And as she said, this is not a kind of task that medics have ever performed.”

Thor now looked at Shuri.

“You could teach him.”

“He couldn’t do better than me. And I’d prefer not to let in further outsiders without consent. It could enrage the leaders too much and trigger severe measures.”

“Oops,” Stephen noted but didn’t elaborate.

“Be careful where you show yourself,” Shuri warned him.

“Look who’s talking,” answered the doctor, though merely as a tease.

The group disbanded with his departure, and the remaining pair rode home. Thor self-righteously left his immovable weapon in the corner of the stables, knowing it would return to him the moment he wished so.

Shuri stopped him one last time inside the barrier.

“I work at night; the heat is less tormenting, it’s easier to concentrate. If everything goes well, he’ll talk to you tomorrow. But I beg you, don’t get your hopes up until it’s certain.”

As a response, Thor’s hands held her by the upper arms in a fatherly manner, their steadiness meant to spill courage in her as they stood there silently with heads bent for a minute. He couldn’t tell her without lying, but he wanted her to feel that she was doing the right thing, regardless of what would happen later.

“Go and rest up well,” he said before they separated.

When he stepped into the hospital again, he felt the familiar sensation of weakness creeping into his limbs. He was not at all used to this kind of baseless fear, and he wasn't sure where to place it. The unnamed scent, the empty stares and disheartened postures of the few people sitting on corridor chairs, the cold white light illuminating every corner, it didn't resemble the sacred chambers of healing he had known. And now he entered the private room with the nagging uncertainty about what his presence meant to his brother. Not that it changed anything in him: he was still Thor, brother of that trickster, and he was ready to go any extra mile in his sake. Or so he thought, until he came into the presence of the runed body suddenly foreign, taking short breaths with long pauses, watched over by screens and wires, wrapped up into thick silence. While he cut his way through it and his attention was drawn to the intrusive rustle of his own boots, he got lost in wondering how he would come into the picture at helping his brother return to his former state. After all, he had nothing else to do right now than watch the frozen mask with the unseen things going on inside; just linger here in his clumsy helplessness.

What he touched now was the white collar, only a finger tracing the silver-shining skin right next to it.

"Do you feel this?" he asked, half-talking to himself, half-embarrassed from it. "Does it hurt?”

He asked the latter because the eyelashes twitched at the contact, revealing a thin stripe of crimson under them; and the sorcerer’s face kept its colour, possibly the different room’s light making it appear greyer than the day before. But the unknown was able to cast a thousand unreasonable fears into people’s hearts; they battled for dominance as a great storm in the mind, covering, enhancing, recolouring each other. Moved by these ever-changing urges, Thor attempted and avoided to slide his palm on his brother’s cheek to find out if the formerly seen reaction was gone. He told himself that Shuri would find out if anything was wrong, that he wouldn’t need to meddle in ignorantly. Then he still placed his hand onto a shoulder that peeked out from the white blanket. He sensed the same mix of cold and heat as the day before; he noted the same kind of chilled precipitation. And there was no change in the colour from his touch, even after leaving his hand there for a while, close to the bottom of the neck where the collar started.

He bent closer in search of Loki’s evasive look, with a knot in his throat that was hard to swallow and unexpectedly stifled his voice as he spoke up.

“Brother... Do you know who I am?”

He regretted the question a million times at once when the response was the eyes disappearing behind pale blue eyelids; after all, they were not in the position to discuss it, and the refusal of giving an answer only tormented him more.

“That’s all right,” he muttered in resignation at the renewed, selfish barrier between them. “You’ll be able to tell me tomorrow.”

So he said, but his heart was heavy and doubtful right now.


	5. Day 4

_Do you really think it's a good idea to bring me back to Earth?_

The question of an interrupted conversation echoed in Thor's shallow dream before waking up around dawn. It took some time to place the voice into a setting, and sleep was far away by then. He recalled a more than pleasant mood, a quiet buzz of relief in the depths of his soul, and resulting carelessness towards the matter in hand. Still, Loki's question had been rightful back then, and what he really meant, his own fickleness, was only one side of the fact. But Thor had known that he would always be here to make things right around his younger brother if needed, and he had trusted this knowledge unconditionally that time, up to the hour when Thanos held his miserable skull in a single hand.

With a heavy head still craving rest, he wandered out and sat on the front stairs of the infirmary, tactful enough not to barge in at the early hour while street lights were still on. He gazed at the starless sky on the horizon, at its sharpening patterns, while the world's colours awoke in the sunrise. The increasing scorch of the air was easy to decipher, sweat or dew started boiling in minute drops on his skin. As he mindlessly scratched hair, shoulder, eyepatch or stubble during the idle period, occasional passers-by silently compared him to a content African buffalo after mating season. Immense power lying in rest – that's what he was in the eyes of those who had witnessed him defending this world against the Mad Titan. Most of them didn't know or ignored what he believed and stated since then: that this power wasn't permanent, though it did give him the resilience to stand up repeatedly: it was rage over his helplessness against the unchanging past, which had melted into this wretched pathos when the subject was no more. In the following period, he had been the last of his kin alive, aimlessly roaming the ground that Fate had laid under his feet in its cruel mockery. This is what was interrupted by the appearance of Loki.

Loki, who undeniably had a better sense of foretelling possible outcomes, though Thor wasn't sure if his expectations of earthlings' response to his presence were entirely accurate, regardless of his past actions. He'd always been a distrusting kind anyway – resulting from the vengeful reception of his trickeries – and his general scorn upon anything _less_ than himself didn't help much at social interactions. But right for example, Stark's attitude also justified Loki's reluctance to end up here. And now, in this vulnerable state at that.

He wondered if the sorcerer thought anything of being brought here at all. Did he have any worries? Would he try warning his brother of anything if he could? Would he want to be away from anything or anyone in particular? Perhaps he'd be able to tell it soon. Maybe he'd burst out in complaints right away, true to his nature. When it came to his expectations from the world, Thor had always thought, Loki was a prince in the blood. He'd have thought so even if he hadn't known of his parentage. Comfort and getting his rightful share had always been among his primary demands.

Shuri sat down next to him at one point, after the rising sun hid back up above the thick layer of clouds to leave a new shade of grey behind.

"Is he asleep?" Thor inquired when her silence stretched out.

"Possibly."

She was surely good at unsettling him.

"He can't speak?"

"He can. Only he won't, for now. Perhaps he'll pay you more attention, though, especially later, after a good rest."

"What makes you think he can? Did he… speak to you?"

"Not much, he drew back after a few words. You know, I think he's just embarrassed, but you can't be sure. His tongue and lips haven't been used for a while, so they need to get back into shape before functioning properly. Make him understand that if you can, then we'll find out how much he's forgotten."

He hurried to obey her, if not in eagerness for the answers then to check on the Jotunn finally, to confirm his captivity in the collar that he was still wearing. As expected, he was or pretended to be asleep, not reacting to Thor's soft voice. The thunder god once again called for the long lost Asgardian healers in his mind at the frown of the dark eyebrows, and the shallow breathing, which he unwittingly connected together into an expression of pain.

Since he had no other way to help, he reached for the box of tissues left on the bedside table, to wipe off the precipitation glinting on the sleeping face. He dried up the forehead, temples and cheeks of pale skin; while touching the runed chin under the slightly parted lips that were cracked and almost white, the question loomed up in him again about whether they would ever speak to him if they didn't do it now. Their stillness was troubling, and the unpleasant sensation raised annoyance in him towards his stubborn, selfish, sulking brother.

That made him care significantly less about the other's thoughts. Placing the tissue on the table, his fingers touched the forehead again to check the temperature he thought to have felt before. The change of colour on that patch of skin filled him with relief, so much so that now both his palms covered his brother's temple, indifferent towards the intrusive nature of this move. His attention was drawn to the fact that even the sorcerer's disguise followed the general trait of frost giants, who had no body hair whatsoever. Besides his size, another peculiarity in Loki was the thick dark hair on his head, though nowhere else. He thought about this while his palms slid down and cupped the cheekbones, sensing the patterns of the curved runes during the movement, and their softening into smooth Aesir skin; into the smoothness he had felt whenever he performed the brotherly touch that symbolised his taking over command as the elder one.

"Stop."

He flinched at the weak-irate voice, although the blurry word was barely understood, it still made his hand pull away obediently.

No more sound was given, only pale red eyes opened up reluctantly to gaze at Thor's silent marvel. The Jotunn's expression seemed troubled even through the strict frown; Thor believed to recognise the glint of agony in it, a desire to get rid of the unnerving pain, perhaps the kind that reminded-

"You're here," he announced, quite dumbly, in renewed delight over the unexpected miracle after the past events, looking at him undisturbed, perhaps for the first time in their lives, because he always had to be wary of his brother's random tricks before. And Loki stared into the summer sky blue eyes, which had a patronising smile in them, as if they had been gazing at a creation of their own. For that minute, Thor didn't even notice how red those eyes were after the warmth of his touch had ceased; now that they were openly returning his gaze, the Jotunn body didn't seem unfamiliar like yesterday: it was his brother that he saw, with his raven locks spread around his face, a few bangs curled up and stuck to his cheek from the previous disturbance.

He moved and brushed those locks away instead of the helpless sorcerer, careful not to graze the skin, as requested: his palm then ended up on the bed's headboard above the sorcerer's pillow.

The lack of resistance bringing his hopes up, he braved a question.

"How are you coping?"

The response was Loki's gaze dropping, and the following silence hinted at the end of the conversation.

"You might need time to get back up, I know that," Thor said finally. "But at least tell me if you know who I am. Don't leave me in the dark."

There was a deep intake of breath. When the dry silver-blue-white lips pronounced his name, very softly, relief spread in him and tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"That's right," he chuckled and observed the face that wasn't smiling back; in fact, it looked more burdened than before.

While the thunder god was busy with his own delight, Loki carelessly repeated the name several times, trying different ways to place his tongue right; his expression, the comical rolls of his eyes, the simultaneous movement of his eyebrows showed his dissatisfaction and effort while he deemed his brother's attention to be elsewhere. Then, when Thor's quiet rejoice reached its end, he immediately fell silent, the pale lips shut tight, and their skin-matching colour almost gave an impression that he didn't even have a mouth.

Thor went on in his eagerness.

"How about your name? Do you know it?"

The moment was over, however: the crimson eyes turned away with a shallow sigh, leaving the blond alone with his surprise.

"You must know," he muttered into the daunting gap rising between them. "You're Loki. Brother of Thor."

He failed to interpret the raise of the mild eyebrows: surprise, or agony over the bothersome topic, perhaps an expression of straight disinterest? The only thing Loki showed clearly was that he didn't feel up to the conversation. But then help arrived at the next moment.

"He knows his name," Doctor Strange noted from the opposite corner of the room. "He stated it after waking up. But it's only been a couple of hours since the operation. Give him time."

Thor didn't move, but his gaze turned to the man after the pale blue eyelids closed tight.

"Announce your presence to the king of this land, sorcerer," he commanded in irritation. "Otherwise you risk us all being ushered out of here."

Strange rolled his eyes, then closed them for barely shorter than a second.

"Done," he claimed.

Then he crossed his arms without stating what he came here for. His look at the thunder god was slightly reproving, but Thor had currently no interest in what he had done wrong.

"What else has he claimed, if you know it so well?" he asked.

"Nothing of importance. His Majesty didn't even answer two whole questions before falling silent."

The god of thunder glanced at his brother to catch his reaction to the mocking title, and he was dismayed to find none. Loki had officially redrawn from the party. Whether he was worried by Strange's peculiar knowledge about what should have happened between him and Shuri, or he was simply sulking at him for the unpleasant nature of their first meeting in the past, Thor could not know, though he'd have given anything to find out, preferably through the trickster's own explanation for this childish behaviour.

The window burst open at the next moment, the sand coloured curtain already flapping empty and a black gloved hand pinned Stephen to the wall at the base of his neck, a thumb's mechanical claw pressing into the soft flesh under his chin, a corner of the red cloak around the wrist in futile effort to dishearten through pain.

"You have some nerve, Doctor," T'Challa noted in his misty voice, dressed in Panther up to his neck. "I'll be generous and listen to why you don't give a damn about our alliance with the Avengers."

"In fact, I do. Which is the very reason I've only intruded this particular room instead of all the places where official matters occur in the greatest secrecy. See, that would be the only way to announce my presence without the lengthy hassle of your unyielding security, and we have quite a pressing matter at hand," the magician explained, and then he let his body be slammed to the wall by the shoulder, hands held up in a pacifying manner.

"Not here," Thor commanded walking closer around the bed, ready to interfere if necessary. "It can be settled at a more suitable place if you want to fight."

T'Challa's posture loosened, but he took hold of the collar of the Cloak and kept his look on the magician.

"If you think it's up to you to judge what's rightful for you here, you're very wrong. This way, you can only persuade people who are already on your side, but you're giving a foothold to opposers once your presence is discovered. Tell me, are you here on your own behalf or sent by Stark himself?"

Strange thought for a moment.

"A bit of both, I suppose."

"It is treason then."

"No, no, I wasn't sent by the Avengers, not yet," he hurried to reassure the other before the Cloak had a ground to get offensive. "So please don't think of them as enemies. I'm here without them knowing. But they're thinking about sending someone to watch over Loki's possible scheming, strictly with your consent, of course. I've merely offered myself for the task, and it shall soon be decided on."

"Am I not enough for you to watch out?" Thor asked.

"You two have a long history," Stephen glanced at him. "He may be well aware how to trick you into certain actions or beliefs. It's best to see things from several sides; though I'll applaud the ones who manage to peek into all sides of this guy."

Whether it was insult or praise remained unclear, because the king released his hostage then, and he walked towards the Jotunn, undisturbed by Thor right next to him.

"Evil is not welcome in my land," he said to all of them. "And neither is anyone who brings evil despite his good intentions. Wakanda has just been through great strife: it's still recovering in the wake of the dreadful Thanos, like many other people in the world; like yourself."

As if on cue, Loki glanced up again to examine the face new in the room, while T'Challa bent over the bed, his arm reaching over to its other side was clear intrusion. The Jotunn's gaze didn't falter against the heavy glare. The indication of pain was gone, his eyebrows arched in nonchalance. Not heeding the notion, T'Challa continued.

"I heard of the paths you've walked, Loki, treasured brother of Thor. As king, you're not my ally, but as man, I feel with you. Value my trust: spare this land of your schemes, and you'll be spared of my wrath."

It could have been the ghost of a smile that appeared on the silver lips for a moment, scornful or appeasing. Thor stared at T'Challa's face in vain to find out which one he chose to believe. His expression unrevealing, the king then straightened up and spoke to the god of thunder.

"Do you know why I said this in your presence?"

The blond shook his head and waited out the answer in silence.

"Because I wanted Loki to see that you're aware of it. It's a reminder that you're standing on our side if his intentions ever take the wrong direction."

Thor felt no hesitation against reassuring him:

"I'll always be on your side in that scenario; if his memories aren't failing him then he knows it well enough."

"If you'd be against his doings, why would you still fight to give him a chance to repeat it?"

The god then stepped up to the human next to the bed, with faint suspicion that the dark eyes were trying him. He spoke as if the subject of their conversation hadn't been observing their movements intently.

"Because he's my brother," he said; "my family, my only remaining family to fight for. I'll always protect him from anything, be it you, some evil, himself, or the entire universe."

"To which he would say...?"

"That I'm a sentimental idiot who is of good use to him. I don't care."

"I can see that. As I can see that you don't really care to convince me with your reasoning."

"A true king should be convinced by truth only."

"How can I see that you really want to save him and aren't only here to fix his body?"

"His ways might never be mended; he's always been and will always be the god of mischief."

"His ways are yet another thing. Your ignorance surprises me, Saviour."

"What are you talking about then?"

But T'Challa refused to give an answer; he turned to the silent Doctor instead.

"Report to me with your findings each time you pay a visit here," he commanded, repeating it with an index finger pointed at the man: "Every single time."

Without another word, he stormed out through the door, the mechanical suit melting off him meanwhile.

And as if he had never been here, Strange stepped away from the wall, up to the bed in the king's place.

"I'm merely here to observe, not to interfere," he reassured Thor before glancing down at the sorcerer, whose eyes were closed again, back to his pained frown, like he pitied himself without care about the ones present. "It's also in protection of humanity, of course, but partly my own… scientific… interest." It was clearly not the word he was looking for. "If he's as I heard, I couldn't keep my curiosity in secret for long anyway. With time, I'd be delighted to exchange our knowledge as fellow sorcerers."

A few seconds passed with the two men looking at Loki, despite assuming that no response would come.

"You're harbouring bold ambitions," noted the god of thunder.

Stephen gave him a lopsided smirk.

"I'm aware. But you seem bent on counting your brother among our allies, so I'm asking again: are you not keeping your hopes high yourself?"

The summer-blue eyes glanced down at the motionless Jotunn again: at the upper arm that his thumb had been unconsciously tracing during the conversation, and at its unchanged colour.

"Time can tell, perhaps," he replied softly.

Much later into the day, Shuri sought him out in his apartment before retreating into the lab, letting him know she had other responsibilities to attend tonight, so the treatment would continue the next day.

"He'll need a rest, too; his functions show gradual change similar to what occurs to a human's energy levels when getting exhausted. And it couldn't possibly be easy even for gods to bear with an entire aching body at once."

"He can endure more than you think," Thor argued.

"Oh, I know. And about that, we might start with some therapy as soon as possible, preferably tomorrow."

"Therapy?"

"That's right. Mostly massaging, perhaps some more. Keeping his body awake. Keeping the joints flexible, the muscles responsive, the skin unharmed from the constant pressure. Have you seen a bedridden patient's backside before?"

"Not really, but I've heard great warriors complain about it like little damsels."

"It can get nasty if you let it happen," Shuri nodded, leaning to the wall next to the entrance door that she refused to leave, sipping from the coffee previously offered. "So tomorrow we'll get to work: I know the means, but you're the only person here who could lift his weight. Make time in your schedule."

It seemed that Thor was finally being involved, which lifted an unnoticed weight off his spirits.

"How exactly will we do it?"

"Not by magic," Shuri said, possibly with a teasing intent. "I don't think either of you will like it too much, so be prepared. The way things look to me now, you'll have to be the one playing the adult."

"It's usually what happens anyway," he informed her, giving emphasis to it by pointing at her with his cup in hand.

"Does it really?"

"Do you doubt it? I might not be able to prove it to you, though, if he'll never respond and refuses to play anything at all."

Her eyebrows ran up at that note, but she got over her surprise in a few seconds. She separated from the wall, and her hand touched the god's shoulder, so much taller than her; she smiled up at him like she was encouraging a disheartened boy.

"He _is_ responding, Thor, haven't you noticed?"

The god of thunder felt more confused than saddened, actually.

"How can you say that while he didn't even talk to you?"

"You can't conclude something like this just from the first minutes."

"Neither did he talk to me later, in fact."

"Because he's ashamed."

"He's stubborn," Thor corrected her.

"Yes, he resists," she said with relentless patience, drawing back her hand meanwhile. "He turns away. He mourns his dignity. But it's not the same as not responding; it shows that he's alive, and that he remembers who he used to be. Don't act so crestfallen, you aren't alone at this fight: he is communicating his grief to you."

A fight... He hadn't thought of it this way, especially not as a battle that Loki was fighting. And not as a battle they were fighting together. And this idea wormed its way into his soul weary from the past days; he was so grateful for it he couldn't find words to say in response. But she understood, the smile in her eyes revealed it as she thanked for the coffee and left.


	6. Day 8

_Loki had been seeing bafflingly similar dreams lately. Watching from inside as Thor banged on the world-sized gate of a cocoon, one with a wall that was not even transparent but the sorcerer still seemed to know exactly what was going on outside. Nevertheless, no sound was made, or none filtered through. Did Thor hear any of his own ruckus out there? His own rustling steps as he was idling around in the first dreams, only his eyes seeking entrance? Did he hear the creaks of the slightly budging door as he pushed at it in the next? As he strained his arms against it, banged his shoulder at it, kicked it with a full foot? His own roar as his face formed yells that clearly attempted to get through? Loki then felt a painful surge of longing for that voice, he craved to hear the deeply booming, steady voice that could surely fly across realms._

Shuri had performed one more operation since the last time; Thor saw relief from great toil in her posture when she emerged in the morning. Now Loki could feel his torso, she claimed, but no one could tell for sure because he refused to converse and hadn't shown any effort to move; only computers noted the brain receiving the related signals, and occasional change in the skin colour under touch, its regularity not yet defined.

Medics started gathering around the phenomenon of the successful progress. Shuri, though she wasn't eager to be the advocate of intruding her patient's privacy, used the opportunity to win over some helping hands for later treatment: she assembled the white-coated visitors and introduced them to her work in a meeting room. At demand, she then let them into the infirmary, strictly keeping a five-minute boundary for marvelling at the runed body, well aware that there wasn't much knowledge to gain. While she explained the spectacle, pointing at relevant areas, the peculiar skin change quickly became the focus of attention. Loki received the uninvited groping of gloved hands with a grim expression, but he still avoided any eye contact and didn't respond to the white-coated humans or their half-hearted appeals for permission before they intruded his very much personal sphere on his chest, waist, forehead. His breathing remained deep and even under the repetitive touches of rubber. The silver-blue skin was unresponsive to them, and later even to Shuri's touch; thus, no explanation could be formed. However, the princess of Wakanda drove away further initiations of study: Loki was under _her_ care right now, and she took Thor's entrustment seriously.

She had taught Thor how to move and warm up Loki's body once a day. It was a process outside any boundaries the two boys had lived with during growing up, and the god of thunder had no doubts that his brother's hate for it was greater than his own discomfort. A warrior's injuries and recovery were traditionally trusted to the care of healers, and joked away among friends. Vulnerability was a private matter in their community. Then again, that land belonged to the past now, with only the two of them left here, so Thor stayed around without inquiring the sorcerer's stance about it, and he followed whatever ways had caught his attention back in Asgard. He would massage through the entire body and move joints until they released their constantly renewing stiffness, with Shuri's help at the beginning; but he had sent her out after the second time. He assumed it would feel a tad better for Loki this way, so he braved the silence left behind her, even the dreaded possibility of hurting his brother with his clumsiness.

He used an oily mixture Shuri had presented to him as one of the old village healers' gift. It had arrived with a request hesitantly carried along: recover and take the god of mischief out of Wakanda as soon as possible. He had sent back his warmest thanks to the unnamed elderly. The oil emitted renewed chill each time he spread it on his palms, with a pleasant, refreshing coolness that slowly spread in his hands, like he was holding them under a waterfall. With human words, it was absorbed in the blood stream and rejuvenated its weary flow, thus the tingling experience. But Thor remembered a very similar sensation from the times when one or two of his limbs received a healer's life-calling treatment to function again: it invited the spirit back into the numbed flesh that was overheated in the process of recreating itself. Shuri nodded knowingly in agreement when he told her that, even though Loki's body itself wasn't said to be injured, so it sounded strange. Maybe she just pretended to be wise, but that was forgivable; she was doing good to Loki and consequently to both of them.

He would talk to his brother while working, to erase the silence. He asked him questions, and he always ended up guessing the answers himself, since Loki kept withdrawn all the while, his lips and eyes sealed shut, his body entirely limp to the touch, the only sign of life in him being the heat felt under the skin. The air conditioner was set to a chilling temperature in the room, at the thunder god's request, but the body was still constantly covered in precipitation, possibly from the contrast: like it was trying to cool on the skin but being ablaze inside. Shuri sternly rejected the idea of taking Loki to an ice chamber, her explanation connecting the numbers on the screens with his bodily functions: she insisted that they showed reaction to the cold similar to humans, or Asgardians, for that matter, so the chilling environment might have done no less harm either. Furthermore, the temperature wasn't the only thing affecting him: pressure, humidity, the entire climate of the land could be a factor to which he was sensitive. Thor was still left eternally brooding why the Jotunn's reaction was so strong while it hadn't happened in the past. It only added to it that Loki seemed skinnier in the thunder god's eyes than what he remembered to have seen with all the leather and metal on. Now he was muscular but lanky and almost as bony as a Frost Giant figure; the ribs, stomach and pelvis bore grooves following the curves of bones, matching the ones on the face, reminding of the giants Thor had fought but the overall appearance being frail and small compared to them.

And then the scars from past battles, some of which Thor had remembered himself. Their sight assured the thunder god once again that Loki never really died, just pretended every single time. The stab from Kurse below the ribs, right under his heart: the uneven depth of the gouge showed it had swiftly been healed by magic, without medical aid. It had been real, his closeness to death. He _was_ a fool, going this length for his goals, whether it had been intentional or not, and at the first sight of that scar, Thor wanted to shake his brother's shoulders until he looked up and then snarl at him, scold him, possibly plead to him never to repeat this fake dying act again. But he refrained from saying anything about it, worried that preaching might chase Loki even deeper into himself instead of opening up at this crucial time. He would talk about trivial things instead while kneading through the freshly formed knots he had learned to recognise, until they smoothed out into flexible flesh. Easing those cramps might have hurt, he couldn't tell if Loki's tightly shut eyes and tense expression was a result of it or just his anger about the situation. Nevertheless, Thor warned him each time before taking the stiff muscle under care.

 _I'm guessing you don't feel this,_ he tended to mutter such nonsense while working on the eternally blue feet and legs, slowly bending joints back and forth and around until they felt to loosen up. _You'll soon be able to do it on your own, brother_ , he would comfort the body that felt like it was dead. _Is it painful? Do you feel anything anywhere when I do this? How about when I'm not bothering it? Are you sore anywhere? Or itchy? Or do you feel any numbness?_ He kept asking questions in persistent hope to get a response someday, breaking the heavy atmosphere, easing both of them. But Loki was not being helpful, or he couldn't be; it must have been more difficult for him to endure than for Thor, the thunder god kept telling himself. _Have some guts, don't you dare turn in on yourself from this later_ , he would warn his brother.

"Soon that collar will be off, Shuri says, possibly tomorrow," he let him know today while working on the fingers, opening the palm with his own and then folding them into his fist repeatedly. "And then you can lie on your stomach for a while, too. Then I can try giving you the proper Massage of Sullen Warriors."

He smiled while uttering the mock name, though just a faint, embarrassed, questioning smile, unsure about whether Loki knew the name that should have been familiar to him as well. He wanted to cease this doubt, in both of them.

"Do you remember our boyhood, when we'd return from our secret adventures, where battles usually ended up badly and even in the best case we would sneak home all battered?" He remained silent for a minute, so he wouldn't rob the trickster of the opportunity to name whose fault those adventures actually were. Then he sighed against his dismay. "A good kneading could do miracles to a frayed body, and Sif excelled at it the most. Too bad she only shared her talent with the ones she deemed worthy of her time. Which practically meant no one. I only received her blessed treatment once, how about you?"

The end of the procedure was done in silence, he always seemed to run out of things to say by then. He had to lift the upper body to access the Jotunn's back; his hand supported the head while he pulled him into a sitting position, propping him to his own shoulder. Then he could use both hands to knead through the muscles around the spine as much as possible. He always missed his brother's expression then, perhaps on purpose, but when he laid him back as the finishing move of the procedure, their suppressed sigh of relief was simultaneous every time.

Today, just like other times, Thor stayed bent over him, his palm resting on the pillow, and he used a clever trick he'd developed during the past few occasions.

"What's the matter?" he asked of the unresponsive creature, and his tone was serious when he continued, but they were both aware of the hint of tease in the open trick. "You haven't given a sound so far. Did I do something harmful to you? If you can't answer, I'll have to call the medics to examine you."

The white-coated humans did make Loki feel nervous, as they did to the thunder god. This heavy atmosphere seemed to be an elemental part of earthen medicine. To avoid it, the crimson eyes flared up at Thor at his note. They gazed at each other's faces for a short while, one in some conceited fatherly reverence, he other irksomely. Then Thor asked:

"Are you all right, brother?"

"Yes." The answer was uttered carelessly, and Loki closed his eyes right away. Their daily mutual conversation was over.

After a similar talk each day, Thor would stay in the room a while longer still, finding something to speak about to the sorcerer on his own accord. Without asking Shuri, he secretly hoped that this would help his brother start speaking again sooner. Meanwhile, he would be sitting on the human-sized plastic chair somewhat awkwardly, his legs pulled under himself, intertwined fingers hanging loosely between his knees. And he would speak to the motionless body in an unsteady, slow pace, with long pauses. About what he had done and learned all day. About what Loki should have been doing. About what they would be able to do together by now. About what Loki could do once Shuri made him better. He listed his not particularly smart ideas even though none of them appeared to raise interest. Sometimes he was also reminded of and shared stories from their youth, ones they were both supposed to know and ones he himself had experienced. He didn't comment but his eyes always darted up for a moment when these anecdotes occasionally made the Jotunn smile: unwittingly and exclusively to himself. Loki especially seemed to like stories in which he ended up harming Thor in some way. The god of thunder didn't mind, he was resigned in the never-changing personality of this overcherished trickster, not quite aware that what made Loki unable to hide his smile was actually the gleeful tone Thor used over his supposed grievances. Thor's ability to handle even his darkest anger with a touch of light – it was a trait Loki both envied and admired in him. Back then, in the careless years, while the sorcerer believed that anything could be obtained as book-knowledge, he had tried to ferret out his brother's secret to _letting go_ , unsuccessfully. It was Thor's very personal essence, like his lightning.

But that was irrelevant anyway, what mattered was that Loki seemed to be listening, understanding. Right now, that meant the world to the god of thunder.

Today, however, Loki had reached a point where he was desperate enough to leave his nest of makeshift pride.

"Thor."

The god of thunder turned back from the door to see the Jotunn gaze before himself.

"Yes, brother?" he responded in a slightly overdone, formal manner while the few seconds' quiet scorched him up in anticipation.

"Heat."

"Is it hot? I'm afraid that's all the cold you're getting at this place," he said while walking back to the bed in a slow pace, expecting redrawal at any moment.

"Head."

Thor's arch of eyebrows requested an explanation.

"My head."

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"My head," Loki spat in clear irritation.

The god of thunder slipped his palm under his brother's head and shifted it slightly, earning a sharp inhale of breath and rapid blinking.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out while letting go gently but eager to stay close where he could help quickly if needed; his hand ended up on the headrest. "What do you need me to do?"

The sorcerer licked his silver lips and glanced around thoughtfully under a frown.

"Pains," he said then softly.

"Pains?"

The blue on Loki's thin cheeks gained a slightly darker shade.

"My head… pains." he breathed out like it was an unwanted, heavy toil to speak.

Thor didn't move, but his chest suddenly felt gaping empty.

"Hurts?" he guessed faintly.

The crimson eyes turned up at him then, looking at his face intensely, so Thor repeated the word, his lips alone smiling back at his brother.

"Your head, does it hurt?"

Loki's gaze turned away then, and his voice was barely audible.

"It _hurts_."

As if the word had been foreign and familiar at the same time, it rolled off his tongue like a forgotten object not belonging there. His lips made little effort to form his thoughts clearly, he spoke in slurred breaths.

"It _hurts_. Immensely... do something."

That _something_ in Thor's first thought was dancing in joy while weeping in dolour. His next idea seemed more practical, so he voiced it.

"I'll ask Shuri about the medicine she's been using. You know, these are just things made for humans, might not work best for you or me."

"Thor."

Their eyes still didn't meet.

"What is it?" Thor asked patiently after the silence.

"Weather."

"It's too hot, I know. Everyone finds it hard to endure, even the natives complain."

"Make it."

"Make it?"

At Loki's deepening and much reluctant frown, the god of thunder quickly got ahead of him by guessing.

"I can't change it, not right now, I'm sorry. You make me so worried with your self-willed reclusion. It shall change on its own when you get better."

Loki closed his eyes.

"Oaf," he breathed powerlessly.

The word that was usually a synonym of Thor in the trickster's vocabulary stole a lopsided smile onto the thunder god's lips; but when he left the room after saying his goodbye, he leaned his forehead to the closed door for a moment to blink away stray tears before he would walk out among people. He hadn't imagined, so he hadn't even dreaded what he discovered today, and only now did he realise that he should have. It seemed that Loki had lost more than what Strange mentioned as an option: he had lost words, possibly too many to be able to speak up even if he wanted to. He had lost his language, his silver tongue, the knowledge that he thrived upon. And what else, due to that or independently from it? Did the list stop here, or would it go on and on with time? It felt like the questions only grew in number, and none of them got answered.

Back in his apartment, he snatched a beer from the small fridge against the constant thirst in the heat. Leaning to the counter, he took long, contemplative sips, musing over the tingling sensation in his right butt cheek. The third gulp helped him remember. He pulled the tiny Stark-phone out of his rear pocket, and opening it, he pressed it to his ear.

"Have you seen the Secret Agent Line News?" Tony's voice inquired from the earpiece.

"Not yet. What channel is it on?"

"Snoop Channel, of course."

"Don't remember having that in my TV," Thor said glancing at the screen built into the wall.

"Anyway," Tony pressed on as he already lost fascination for the overly too easy joke. "Cap reports. SHIELD found something that might interest the two of you, if Fury wouldn't intend to keep it secret for now."

"Then why did it appear on TV?"

"It didn't. I apologise. A satellite froze over, or two, in orbit around the Earth."

"What caused it?"

"They don't know much yet, or the data is being withheld from Cap. They were hit by an icy object that dissipated upon contact, they speculate, since an empty area of collision has remained."

"Or maybe someone snuck onto the planet."

"It's too early to draw conclusions, but yes, that's what happened."

"How are you so convinced then?"

"A lifetime's gut practice. Whatever S.H.I.E.L.D. decides on, I'm going along this line. However, I can't send anything up to investigate without losing Fury's blissful ignorance. Care to go to Space and examine it? I could get you there undetected, since you don't require much to survive for a while."

"I'd rather not, at least until you're certain. I can't leave Loki here right now."

"Is that a _can't_ for real or just a _don't want to_?"

That actually made Thor think; another sip from the beer let him stall for a moment.

"He's going through a lot," he noted then.

"Isn't he in professional hands? I hear Shuri's doing fine at gathering an entourage for the time he's getting up."

"Who did you hear that from?"

"A man's gotta have his intel. Don't inquire, don't advertise it."

"Strange, is it?"

"Say, are you deaf or stupid? Wait, don't answer that. Answer this: when are you coming?"

"Why won't you let Fury do the investigation? I reckon you're allies, and they're a capable bunch as well."

"I could leave it to him, in fact, if I wasn't the cocky bastard you already know. Just on a side note, though, hastening the progress from our side would also serve your brother's interest. I assume you're aware that he's instantly associated with the intruders, as a creature of similar nature."

"I'm not letting that happen, I can vault for his whereabouts in the past years."

"Can you? Even the time when you were busy fighting Thanos with us?"

"You can see he's been rendered incapable since then, what could he have done?"

"I don't know. Do you? How much do you know about his abilities? Can you assure us he can't use his mind to stir trouble?"

"Stark, he's not a witch," Thor sighed, growing wary of the constant rejection of his generally faultless reasoning.

"That doesn't exclude being a psychic, or a sociopath, for that matter. If you want him clean, do me that favour, Thor."

"I'll think about it."

"Kindly get your hind over to my place after you decide, and don't take ages. Even if you do, will you at least let him be questioned about the matter when possible?"

Right now, Thor didn't know if it would ever be.

"All right," he muttered, not much eager to talk about it today. "And you get your information soon, so people realise he's got nothing to do with this."

"Look, I understand you've been a mental cripple since the war ended, and that excuses you from a lot of stuff. But don't let sentiment cloud that righteousness of yours just now."

"It won't."

"Right, tiger. See you around when things evolve."

After sliding the phone back into his pocket, Thor let out a short chuckle, mostly with surprise. So he was being a cripple. A sentimental one at that. He remembered the elderly of Asgard growing closer to a similar phenomenon as the centuries ate their life force away. But he was still far from that phase, at least three thousand years away. He hoped that if Stark was right, this was only a passing mood and not the warning sign of some early retirement.


	7. Day 14

"It's going to be all right, you'll see." Thor noted over the unusually heavy gloom before him. He was pushing a freshly obtained wheelchair along the corridor in a comfortable pace with his heavy steps, well aware of his brother's sulk and doing his best to remedy it. "They can be nice, too, when you don't try to destroy their planet."

"They're a wild bunch when put in the same room, though," Shuri noted walking next to them.

They were heading to the jet waiting in the square before the hospital. The Jotunn had been dressed into a moderately patterned, short-sleeved shirt of his brother, his neck free from the collar, and he was throning in his cushioned seat quite straight for how little effort he generally showed at getting back into shape. He was glaring ahead like he could burn up walls with his eyes, rightfully outraged after their first greater argument in the past two weeks. Thor, in fact, was thrilled by it: mentioning the permission to leave the secret complex and visit old acquaintances for a while drew more words out of Loki in an hour than anything else had since the first operation. Though his reasoning consisted exclusively of _Thor_ and _no_ in different variations, heedless to the thunder god's colourful depiction of each Midgardian hero as an endeavour of persuasion, it did give the impression that they were having a conversation and exchanging views about the matter.

The trip was supported by several factors. For instance, Shuri didn't like the way her patient was caving in despite his physical improvement – though both her and Thor were aware that the self-righteous creature tried harder in private and only refused to cooperate when help was offered. Loki was fed up with the constant, permitted or secret assault of medics and scientists. Opposers were growing restless at the rumour about Shuri's successful treatment of Wakanda's _creature_. Considering it all, the African woman deemed it worth to send him away for a while; the idea came up after she heard about Stark's occasional calls and Thor's dilemma.

The god of thunder didn't doubt that the unnatural occurrences had nothing to do with his brother, but the possibility of him being a suspect and thus an enemy of this society again unsettled him. With their home destroyed, he thought that Midgard would be a fine place to reside in. Then, with the power of Earth's heroes, he believed that this planet was currently the safest place for Loki until he fully recovered. This additional threat was anything but welcome right now, and he hoped to clarify things before they got serious.

"Revert," Loki interrupted his brooding when they left the building and shimmering heat splashed into their faces.

"You'll be back in a few days, I promise," Shuri said, ignoring the strangeness of his wording. "And I'll make you walk after that."

Thor bent down in an attempt to catch the sorcerer's gaze.

"Unless you keep up this dramatic facade, mind you," he noted. "Shuri says you're capable of much more than you're willing to perform."

An irate hiss was the response, and he left it at that, because they approached the vehicle where several speared figures were waiting in two straight lines, and T'Challa before them. The princess of Wakanda stood aside wordlessly upon arrival.

"I can't wish for you to come back," said the King. "But I stand by my word, and the gates will open to you just one more time, as long as I'm in charge here. Let this ease your minds on your journey."

A nod was the answer from the thunder god, worth a thousand words at this moment. Loki's gaze was on the ground while they went on past the king, towards the cloaked wizard waiting by the entrance.

"Thor," muttered the Jotunn, his tone a warning as he looked up at the man.

"That's Strange, an earthen magician," Thor reminded. "You've met him."

"He's… noxious."

"No, he isn't. He fought with us in the war."

"Thor, he's bad!" Loki snapped, unconcerned by being within earshot.

"He only did that falling thing to you because he needed time to talk. Right, magician?"

"Sorcerer, actually," Strange noted while turning around and leading them up the ramp. "I'll be your guard on the journey, making sure you don't elope together and hide or raise havoc at other points of our world. Welcome to your trip to the Avengers Tower."

"Can't you teleport us there?" Thor was curious to know.

"As I've just informed the last dozen who asked: no."

"It's a great distance," Natasha explained for him, turning back in the pilot's seat. "The toll would be too high on your bodies and minds."

She mirrored Thor's smile as a belated greeting.

The thunder god found a spot to fasten the wheelchair to the wall; then he placed his hand on his brother's neck under the raven bangs, his blue eyes seeking to get through the veil of resentment in the other's.

"It'll be fine. The weather's better there, too," he said. As it didn't move the Jotunn to converse with him, he straightened up and glanced at the pilot. "How come you're not away on a mission?"

"I'm on a break," she replied what he expected while turning back to the control panel.

The doctor subtly shook his head at Thor, quite unnecessarily, since they both knew she was never on a break. She was probably aware of their knowledge, too. Information theft was happening mutually between the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D, as it was habitual in well working relationships.

"You'll be celebrated in the Tower," Strange let the thunder god know when they took their seats during take-off, Thor facing his brother and Strange a seat away from the wheelchair. "They've been getting a bit edgy from Stark's constant bad mood because of your reluctance to help out. And Pepper's… changes," he added on a quiet side note.

"Changes?"

"You'll know when you see it. But I reckon it will be your smallest concern once you're filled in."

"Have you found the intruders?"

"Stop!" Loki's command addressed the stir of the red cloak whose lowest corner rose to worm its way between his waist and the chair.

"My apologies," said Strange briefly and jerked the cloth into place while glancing back up at Thor. "The news from S.H.I.E.L.D, or rather the lack of them, are quite unsettling, actually."

He pulled the cloak back yet again before the Jotunn could have voiced his dismay.

"The Captain hasn't reported?" Thor asked.

"He said official details are still being worked on, but even without them-"

Strange broke off and followed the god's look, which returned his brother's death stare at him, while Levi sought a suitable entrance through a faintly resisting Jotunn's ears. He couldn't or refused to avert it with an arm. The doctor set Levi right with a strong tug.

"What's the matter with the cape?" Thor inquired.

"It's a cloak," the man corrected. "Somewhat restless lately, that's all."

Loki's well practiced scorn over the excuse was impossible to ignore even without him giving a sound. The god of thunder sighed.

"Did you give him a new reason to hate you?" he inquired of the magician.

"Not in the least."

"Yes!" snapped the Jotunn with a corner of the red drape creeping up his shoulder.

Strange forcefully twisted the cloak around his own wrist to keep it from moving around, meanwhile his tone appeasing towards the tale-monger.

"I told you I meant no harm."

"What did you do?" Thor frowned, this look of his able to make weaker minds feel shame even if they hadn't done anything.

"I just had to check something out, not going to repeat it," Strange responded, much unfazed for the charge against him.

"Is it related to his innocence?"

"His what?" Natasha got ahead at asking.

Thor scratched his neck under his brother's urging gaze to defend him.

"I mean, does it concern the current threat?"

"Perhaps, perhaps not. The possibilities are endless, though, so don't consider me your enemy. It goes for you too," said the former surgeon glancing at Loki.

"Can't I help instead?"

"You should. But that one's a Stark matter, so you'll have to see him first."

The rest of the flight went by with idle chatter, worldly matters concerning tools for daily living, exchanging memories and experiences, but avoiding the war just recently fought. None of them was eager to relive that toil.

The thunder god noted the intensity of Loki's gaze on their faces and gesturing hands; he seemed to be listening closely to what they were saying. Thor smiled back at his purposeful frown whenever their looks met. He nurtured the hope that he was relearning things by hearing. He could have learnt faster with specific aid, Thor was told, but those attempts met strong resistance, so they ceased after a while. Loki's attention was selective, gracing only a select group of people at select times, just like his skin colour.

The latter, it seemed, depended highly on who and when handled him. Thor's touch almost always induced a change on the upper body. Shuri's when she was alone with him. Others', like doctors', never. It was impossible to take for a fact, but the hypothesis stood that the change depended on his momentary willingness to accept the touch. And on actually feeling the touch, or as Shuri phrased it, on the nerves' connection to the brain.

For Thor, however, it was just another mystery he should have learned about his brother long ago. Sometimes when startling up from a nightmare and lying awake for a while, he got unsettled by the thought that Loki was supposed to be gone without Thor knowing this many things about him, things that made up his essence. He wasn't even aware of how little he knew about the brother he so boastfully claimed. But mistakes happened to teach you better, and the chance to remedy them was always a blessing.

Perhaps for this reason, when he pushed Loki's wheelchair out of the vehicle towards the two old friends idling around farther away on the asphalt field, some misplaced pride hummed in his chest. Because here he was bringing his brother, alive and stubborn and steadily forcing his overly too much personalised way up from the state he had been found in.

During the teasing comments serving as greetings, Loki's look darted around their faces, searching farther corners as well.

"Not all of us are here," Natasha assured him when she walked by. "But that doesn't mean they won't arrive in a moment is anything's amiss."

"Thanks for giving away our security means," Stark nodded at her on the way, earning her warmest smile of nonchalance in return. "Strange won't be dropping in for tea, I assume?"

"Just as always."

"Is everything going all right? How are you two doing?" Bruce asked of the thunder god.

"Well enough," Thor smiled at him, satisfaction in his voice. "Loki is his good old tyrant self. He'll be back to normal eventually."

"We have some fine doctors that could treat him here, too, you know," Stark stepped up to them, patting the scientist's shoulder as if he'd present him. "If only you could convince Wakanda to make that technology known to us."

"You better give up that futile hope," Banner suggested.

The Jotunn no longer seemed to pay attention during the chatter above him; Thor, unwittingly bent on deciphering any signals his brother gave, would have sworn he stared intently at insignificant things for lengthy periods instead. Like the side of a truck as the flaps swam across the heavy linen in the wind. The sluggish travel of spilled, foamy water towards the sewer. The sun preparing its own bloody setting scene below a ragged blanket of clouds. The soundless shimmer of its light on a glass door.

"What are you thinking of?" the thunder god asked while he pushed the chair on, following the group into the building.

"Asgard."

Silly as it was, the answer reached him unprepared, so he didn't respond at once. Without knowing how much Loki remembered about their home or its sorrowful downfall, Thor didn't find a comment he would have dared to utter. Later. He postponed asking him about it for a more convenient time, hoping he'd find a stronger voice to share missing knowledge than what he felt stuck in his throat at present.

While they spent some time celebrating reunion in the lounge, Loki was playing a statue: his posture once again straight, chin at a precisely determined height, look on his knees. In this motionlessness, he rejected each conversational attempt thrown his way.

"So he's the king of his own dreams now, I see," Tony observed from the counter with whisky in hand. "He isn't mute, though?"

"He's forgotten some words," Thor explained. "Though I believe he can express his point perfectly when he wants to, he may be conscious of his lacking. Perhaps a bit embarrassed, that's all there is to it."

As he repeated Shuri's words that he partially believed, his name came from the Jotunn's lips like the hiss of an injured animal.

"Talk about embarrassed, idling around here in utter secrecy."

Three heads turned away, suddenly immersed in various important activities; Thor alone smiled at the woman squeezing herself through one of the doors, and he stepped up to her to grace her hand with a kiss.

"I've heard about your blissful state, but it's the first time I witness it in person. I must say you look marvellous, Pepper."

"Blissful, yes," she grunted, running her hand over her giant belly, and then she shot a glance at the billionaire hiding behind the counter. "A blissful _accident_ , I reckon."

The word must have made Stark tick, because he threw up his arms.

"Yes, it is. Remember? We've been through this many times, privately, in front of our friends, strangers, the media…"

She barely heeded his words, her index finger pointed at him, eyes narrowed.

"Just so you know, I'm having the kid examined soon. If I find out that I've carried some miracle of nanotechnology in my womb for seven months, then so help me, Tony Stark-"

"What kind of a devil do you hold me for?" wailed the accused.

"Speaking of the devil, have you met Loki before?" Bruce interrupted in an endeavour to prevent the quarrel.

As Pepper turned into the indicated direction towards the sitting figure, her expression lit up like a May afternoon.

"Why, not yet. Welcome to the Avengers Tower, dear," she said while walking towards him. "You look awfully tired, did they let you nap on the way?"

Loki's mouth was once again almost invisible as he sealed his lips tightly, staring into the opposite direction from the corner of his flaring eyes. Although he should have been able to intimidate her with his peculiar looks at hand, instead he leaned the other way with the most subtle movement when she bent down to him.

"How was your travel, huh? Would you like something to drink?" she inquired while her fingers nimbly pulled the collar of his shirt in place. "I bet these careless goons don't keep you well hydrated in this heat, do they?"

No one dared tell her to stop her assault in the first minute.

"Honey, that's a supervillain you're trying to piss off," Tony muttered into his glass finally, which was the bravest any of them could presently have mustered.

Taking the hint, Thor finally reeled the woman away by her shoulders.

"We're both immensely pleased to have been invited here again," he smiled. "Perhaps you could show us around so we know our way."

"Dinner first," she announced then with unexpected rigour. "I've cooked for you all to celebrate your reunion, meet me in the diner in twelve seconds."

After she left without awaiting a response, Bruce gestured towards her while looking at Thor.

"Behold Tony's latest creation."

"It better be completely natural," Nat spoke to the billionaire in the first place while she helped herself to a drink; "or the next civil war we fight will be a family feud."

"For the last time, I did nothing," Stark burst out. "Am I really that much of a dick?" At the others' silence, his hands rose up in succumb. "Fine, I can be. But I'm completely innocent at this one. Well, as much as nature allows it. And before you answer, can we please warn Loki to refrain from hurting my wife in any way?"

"He's not up to anything vile this time," Thor reassured him. "Right, brother?"

Tony glanced at Bruce over the silent Jotunn's head.

"Yeah, well, I might just be the only one here detecting some potential triggering factors. Don't even listen to me."

"He's got a point," Bruce mumbled to Thor under the sharp gaze. "Just in case, don't leave him out of sight, okay?"

Thor huffed doubtfully while pushing the wheelchair towards the door.

"What exactly are you expecting to happen? He's unable to stand, his arms are still recovering, he couldn't stab or steal anything if he wanted to. His magical powers are down as well."

"I don't know, can he bite?" Stark inquired.

"I told you he's not some savage beast. He's as much of a sane and intelligent creature as I am."

The comparison made the group smile unwittingly, until Bruce moved after the gods.

"Don't take it offensively, Thor, you should know by now that no one here really means bad."

"True enough," Tony admitted. "What happened to your belief in humanity?"

The discourse got forgotten as they all headed to the quest in the dining room at their respective pace.

"What a feast!" Thor exclaimed in joy at the table.

"Yeah, yay, what a feast," Bruce made a half-hearted attempt at following his fervour. "I haven't had turkey filled... with these tuna-filled pickles for... a day, maybe?"

"Shut up and eat," Natasha mumbled into her serviette. "The less you chew, the faster it's over."

"It goes best with three servings of the potatoes," Tony hinted.

"I made those especially for your comfort, dear," Pepper smiled.

"Am I being a lucky fella," he smiled the fakest smile of history.

Meanwhile, Loki didn't respond to Thor's unblushing offer to feed him; however, after a sufficient amount of begging, he reached for the fork. The dinner's other participants desperately pretended to be chatting with each other about small stuff while their attention clung on the Jotunn's upcoming performance.

The fork was barely grazed when Loki grew fed up with the trembling of his hand and drew it back, turning his head away from Thor, still firmly refusing to be fed.

"I don't need help, I'm a perfectly capable person," Pepper snapped at the other end of the table, sweeping the billionaire's hand out of the way.

While she was busy reaching over her stomach without tipping anything over, Bruce subtly bent to Tony, his voice filled with sympathy.

"I'm going home tomorrow."

"Oh, no, you aren't," Stark didn't care to lower his voice, causing Bruce to shush him.

The scientist compensated for his low voice with strong facial and hand gestures.

"Two more months of this, Tony! I'm sorry, you're my friend, but I can't bear this any longer. I'll have to demand a switch."

"You can't leave me now," the billionaire reasoned. "That would mean the end of our contact in any form until I die."

"Call Peter, he's always happy to bathe in your glorious presence."

"He's got school."

"Not in the weekend," said Bruce with a suggestive raise of eyebrows.

"Banner, I know you won't be back after the weekend if I let you go."

"Oh, come on. Here's Nat."

"Work tomorrow," she said unfazed.

"Yes, you do, cheater. Where's Cap then?" Bruce went on.

"Busy," said Tony while reaching for the wine.

"And Falcon?"

"Mission."

"And what about the Ant-Man? He's good with being ordered around."

"Because he's a coward and a back-out. He'd shrink down and escape without a second thought."

"Clint!" Bruce perked up from the sudden idea. "He's got family, he knows how to deal with this."

"Probably that's why he can't be reached anywhere right now."

"Nat?" Bruce looked at the woman, pleading.

"No idea."

"Come on, Nat, I'm sure you can do a few days here."

"Sorry, Bruce, no can do. What's up, Thor, won't your brother eat?" she asked over the table, slyly diverting the topic.

"It seems like it's not going to happen today," said the thunder god. "I'm sorry for your wasted work, Pepper."

"None of you really knows when to give privacy, do you?" noted the blond woman then softly, and the two Midgardian guests hurried to agree with her.

"Pretty rude," Natasha said frowning into her glass.

"He's royalty or something, after all," Bruce added.

A few seconds passed in silence.

"Everyone out," Pepper commanded when no one seemed to get the hint.

"Oh, come on, guys," Tony groaned as Bruce and Natasha stood up immediately, carrying their plates into the other room, heedless of his comment.

"You too," Pepper told her betrothed.

"Of course, honey, but only after you. Can't let you harass our guests, can I?" At her sharp look, he quickly added. "You know how you are lately. I wouldn't want to miss your storms over my meal. By now, nothing tastes normal without them."

Whether she took it as an apology or an insult, her quiet huff didn't reveal. Tony returned her look with faultless bravery, until she stood up.

"And you eat," she pointed at Loki before carrying her weight towards the door.

"No."

Well, if that didn't stop time then nothing could.

"It's fine now, just eat," she repeated patiently.

Thor sighed as Loki pouted his lips in utter nonchalance.

"No," the Jotunn repeated lightly, his head still turned away from the plate of goods.

"Loki, what the hell are you doing?" Thor muttered with his scolding frown.

"It's my food. I can eat if I want."

"See?" the thunder god beamed at the humans in an attempt to ease the suddenly suffocating atmosphere. "Told you he can express his stand when he wants to."

The miracle of the Jotunn finally presenting his speech to them didn't move anyone in the room right now. Unless it was catharsis that made Pepper start weeping.

"Just theoretically, Thor, will your brother die quick or suffer long if I blast him in the head?" Stark inquired.

"That's right, now start shooting over the kitchen table!" the woman of his life snapped through the tears. "He doesn't want to eat, what's so hard at getting it? He can always eat later, or not at all, he's a god, for God's sake, leave him alone-"

"They aren't really gods," Tony muttered through her sobbing while he guided her out of the room.

While free from all gazes, Loki snatched up a piece of steamed potato by hand and swiftly guided it into his mouth before it would have fallen off. He returned Thor's look with apparent curiosity about his wonder.

"You've got a terrible, insensitive nature, brother," Thor deduced, earning a nonchalant, full-mouthed hum as a response.

With another quiet huff, he picked up the fork and helped him to additional bites. The food disappeared in no time; Thor's smile at it was subtle and approving.

As strictly instructed by Shuri, he then requested to be pointed to the accommodation of his brother right away. It had been set up on the top floor designed for the thunder god, in a well cooled side room ( _You'll be a better guard than our security equipment in the infirmary_ , Tony explained); a bed, a desk, a single wardrobe, and a shared bathroom. He noted that the shower he remembered had been remodelled into a bathtub, large for human measures, though measly compared to the royal baths of Odin's palace.

When he returned from his observation, he found the Jotunn leaning sideways onto the bed from the chair.

"Are you asleep?" the thunder god muttered, swallowing his fright.

"No. It hurts."

His pale eyebrows rose at the unexpected confession.

"Headache again?"

"No."

"What then?"

There was a short pause.

"Head too."

"What else?"

Loki closed his eyes again, hopefully thinking and not sleeping. It occurred when he finally spoke up.

"Many. I don't know."

Thor knelt down next to the bed behind the Jotunn and laid his hand on the shirt.

"Your shoulders?"

"Shoulders, yes."

His palm slid up.

"How about here, further behind?"

"Yes."

"And your back?"

"Back, yes. Immensely."

The sorcerer suppressed a groan when Thor attempted some massaging moves, so he gave up quickly.

"It's the first time you sat upright for such a long period, isn't it? It must be the strain," he guessed.

"The strain is not bad. Heat is."

"I know. You'll have to deal with that until you recover."

"Thor. Change the weather."

"I can't," he said briefly, he wasn't up for another bicker over it. But at the irate huff, his voice also rose. "The pain could still be helped, you wouldn't have to deal with it yourself. Why don't you say it when it's too much? Would you rather get injured again than admit you feel tired?"

"No _tired_ to a warrior."

"Don't be a fool. You're recovering, there is nothing wrong with that. Leave this self-torment to the ones in the front lines."

"I'm a warrior," Thor heard him repeat softly, contrasting his rigour.

Suspicion lowered his voice to match the Jotunn's.

"Have you forgotten? You're the finest of sorcerers. Your strength lies in spells."

"I'm no sorcerer. Not now."

As the weight felt in the words crept into Thor's chest, he got round the chair and crouched there to face the Jotunn. He wasn't good at the subtle intricacies of communication, but he deemed this a confession showing trust, and he wanted to let his brother know how good, how much all right it was. His hand behind the neck didn't succeed in making the crimson eyes look up from the blanket.

"You're my brother, how about that?"

"I'm not it."

He frowned at the presumed sass.

"You are my brother," he repeated more forcefully, his thumb steadily framing the other's cheek. "You're Loki. Whatever is happening now, you'll be fine. It takes time, that's all."

"Don't lie!" Loki hissed before himself, the wrinkles above his nose indicated genuine anger.

"It is no lie, I know you'll make it. I'll be here to make sure of that." Like he had gone unheard, he believed to see dejection in the mismatched green-red eyes. And he loathed himself for failing to influence what Loki hated the most. He pushed against the disheartening fact for the hell of it. "Remember? Never doubt that I love you."

It was a helpless note, a blind shot in the dark, but the sentence recalled from the past stole the hint of an unwilled smile on the pale lips, and his remembrance pleased Thor as well.

"I'll ask Shuri to find a better cure than those medicines. And you rest up well now," the thunder god said then. "But take this shirt off at least, you'll still have to wear it tomorrow."

"What? Why?" Loki muttered while his body was lifted onto the bed entirely, his upper body sinking into the dream-soft pillow, and he was rolled onto his back without a question to allow access to the buttons.

"I didn't think about bringing a shirt for each day, I'm sorry."

"Thor!" It was clear reproach.

"What?" the thunder god protested. "You never complained in Wakanda. It's supposed to be fine."

"Not fine."

Thor stopped at this point, and leaning on a palm, he sought eye contact again.

"What's bothering you, Loki?"

"I go," came the answer from the burning eyes.

"Where?"

"Wakanda."

"Not now. Come on, we've just arrived."

"You can sleep. After it, I go."

"It's but a few days," Thor pleaded. "It will go by in an instant, I promise."

As neither seemed to give in, Loki turned his head and his eyes closed with the huff overly too familiar by now. It was a point when nothing put him off of playing dead to this mushy big brother. He might or might not have been aware that he managed to catch Thor off-guard with it each time: the thunder god kept believing they were over this phase since Loki became able to voice his thoughts. It angered him, this self-righteous punishment Loki dealt by purposefully denying improvement. But what did he have to counter this spoiled act when he was the one desperate to avoid confrontation and driving his brother father away? Keep it to himself, that's all he had.

"You'll see it in a different light tomorrow," he muttered while tugging the shirt off the limp, runed body, and he retreated to his own room to listen for the breaths of slumber through the door left slightly open.


	8. Day 19

_Thor’s assault on the gate was relentless; covered in sweat, his chest rising and falling with each scanty breath, his head bent down, his fists and lower arms collided with the door in turns again and again, in a contemplative pace, to leave time for gathering up his remaining drops of strength before each hit. The tattered wood shuddered from the impacts, but there was no sign of it losing its stability._

He stole glances at his brother through the half-opened door while getting ready for the day. The Jotunn was on his back as he had left him last night, his head turned into the other direction, possibly watching his hand; his fingers trembled around his eye level, clumsily attempting to close and open. Thor gathered up courage to meet him before he softly knocked on the door-post, waited a second, and only then did he enter as if he had gotten an answer.

Loki faced each daybreak with the measliest interest; his listless sighs of waking told Thor that the world could have turned into gold or shrivelled up and neither would have moved a speck in him.

 _Detachment_ , Shuri had named it while still in Wakanda: _distancing himself from things he craves in vain. Don't let it go on._

_We could give him whatever he desires. How can I make him entrust me with his wishes?_

_Well, can you make him move on his own? Give him the privacy of choosing his own actions?_

_You can. You can make those machines that help him walk and perform even more intricate doings._

_Those are for people who are incapable of them_ , she responded with apparent surprise at the peculiar idea. Later that day, when they were both in the infirmary, she turned to Loki like he had made the request himself: _y_ _ou come back from New York holding a glass with those hands, so I see that my work has a purpose, and then I’ll make you walk. All at its own time, understood?_

Though the Jotunn only turned his head with the most subtle nonchalance, Shuri's smile at Thor was satisfied afterwards.

The thunder god struggled to follow her optimism; nevertheless, the silences during the daily massage were less tormenting now. Either that, or Thor had gotten used to them, but he definitely felt less pressed to fill them. He found himself simply relishing that the body under his palms was warm, breathing, moving, although the latter only happened automatically from the impact: the sorcerer still refused to try anything in front of others, he showed clear signs of despising any audience of his attempts. It made the careful embraces to lift or move his body painful, laboured, apologetic, because they were subtly repelled; it was burning Loki's skin, it was destroying his pride, his stubborn, unyielding self. And it was undoing Thor. The knowledge that he was dealing torture with each act of help. The agony of seeing his brother humbled into a form that every cell in him visibly protested against. The sense of failure he saw in the averting eyes, the repetition of what Loki had been fighting against all his life, the helplessness he had been swept back into once again.

To please his brother in hope it would help soften him up, Thor had asked the lord of the building for extra shirts they could borrow. Which then resulted in another private sulking scene that evening, contrary to his expectations. Loki's skilful drama about it riled the thunder god into a night-long evaluation of his own worth. It took a hot cocoa and a sympathetic pat from Bruce in the morning to fully get over it.

Nevertheless, Loki received a T-shirt (featuring the word _ATTITUDE_ ) for today – it was a way to force him to use his arms if he wished to be dressed. It wasn't much, but way more than what could be achieved by direct begging, commanding, threatening, blackmailing.

“Hair,” Loki uttered like a sovereign exhausted from his own power when Thor was about to leave the room with him.

“True enough,” he responded now and dug into the bag Shuri had pushed into his hand before departure from Wakanda. He wanted to refuse it, saying they already had everything necessary, but she insisted that it might be needed. Well, there lay a brush Thor had never remembered to pack, for instance.

The Jotunn was staring out the window while Thor fumbled around with his hair to his best abilities. He was much easy-going about suspected pain thresholds, but Loki never flinched at the merciless tugging of his locks.

"Thor."

The thunder god believed to recognise the tone, so he waited for the continuation resigned. His name had become Loki's most frequently used words, serving the purpose of having his wish of the time fulfilled. It touched Thor in the first period, later it disheartened him as the situation didn't seem to move forward. By now, it got to the level of annoying, it being the signature of an upcoming command. And there it was.

"Rain."

Thor's sigh was like a gust of wind over the dark hair.

"You know I can't now."

"Make rain."

A minute passed in silence until Thor dropped the brush into the bag and bent down before the sorcerer to catch his gaze.

"As I said before, you'll have to make me, brother."

Loki's eyes widened for a moment like he just took in the mockery, but he didn't respond otherwise, and Thor thought to have won the debate till much later that day.

The TV was on a high volume when they entered the kitchen area, mixed with a scientific debate of Tony and Bruce. While the smart ones explained their stand in turns, they both gestured around with a bread roll stuffed with scrambled eggs and bear leek. Pepper was just ready with the next dose, her smile showed it was meant for the gods.

"It's health-consciousness day," Tony let them know as all three humans left the room, by now not even caring to find an excuse in order to let the brothers feast in privacy, the only way Loki was willing to look at food. The Jotunn's majestic satisfaction over this gesture was always unveiled behind their leaving forms.

"Do you wish to keep watching the flashbox of news?" Thor inquired after they stuffed down the weird but strangely satisfying sustenance.

“I go.”

Another part of their everyday routine.

"A few more days, brother," Thor responded calmly.

"No, now."

"Remember what Shuri told you? Do you really wish to appear before her just now, after that promise?"

"Promise? Not I."

"She's doing you a big favour, Loki," Thor said with that annoying justice-frown of his, and the Jotunn turned his head away morosely. "Do you know that?"

When he got no answer, Thor repeated softly:

"Do you?"

Loki scowled at the window, and the thunder god was helpless against this wall of resistance. But he wasn't the one to give up; he set aside the emptied plate and put the water glass closer, watching his brother's face. Loki kept his gaze on the outside world, but his attention was here: Thor could observe the gradual change on his expression, and his own heart sank with it.

"Everything has to begin somewhere, brother," he muttered at the unfolding worry he detected. "This is a road you have to walk down. You can begin at cooperating, or we can go farther back and start with robbing you of privileges until you do. It's your very own choice."

"Privileges?" the Jotunn spat; his insulted expression was astonishingly similar to his Aesir face.

"You think there's nothing to deny you that you would miss? How about your time alone? It's always lively here, I enjoy spending the day in the company of these very kind and fun-loving Midgardians."

He smirked as Loki's gaze dropped unwittingly, failing to hide his dismay over the thought. The advice Thor had received yesterday seemed to work.

"If nothing else helps, we shall play this game from today. You've always been fond of games anyway."

Loki didn't even care to pretend he was amused: theatrical torment seeped from the movement as he raised a heavy arm and rested it on the table, his jaw clenching while he stared at the glass. Thor watched motionlessly, as it had strictly been forbidden for him to show joy over Loki's possible compliance.

"Try it," he urged on softly at the momentary halt. "Let's get over with this."

The crimson eyes lifted up to look at the thunder god, and they revealed to Thor what was coming before it happened: with their looks interlocking like that, a laboured sweep of Loki's arm pushed the glass off the table. It reached the ground with a crash.

"That's the third one, Thor!" came Stark's voice from the other room.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry," said the accused with eyes closed.

He cleaned it up under Loki's scornful gaze.

"Slave," the Jotunn muttered at one point.

"You're the one shaming me into such work, brother," Thor answered, although he didn't mind performing the easy task.

After joining the two men in the living room, he was reminded of that day's agenda.

"I'll be away discussing a thing with these humans, and I'll return afterwards," he told Loki.

"No."

"Yes. I’ll leave you wherever you want meanwhile.”

"What thing?"

"You don’t need to concern with it. Point out the room in which you'd enjoy spending the upcoming hours," Thor suggested while the two humans separated from their drinks and the sofa.

The Jotunn spent a few seconds brooding.

"Locked," he answered then.

"From who?"

To that, no response came.

"You wish to lie down already?"

"No. Only locked."

"No one's going to hurt you here, brother."

"Yes!"

"Who on earth would, Loki?"

In the following silence, a shared blink of Bruce and Tony decided that they were to hurry ahead.

"Good luck with pleasing the princeling, please don’t be too late," muttered the latter to Thor, audibly for everyone in the room.

"Thor, I go where you," Loki pointed out.

"Sorry, buddy, it's a closed meeting," Tony told him and pulled the door in behind himself, without waiting for the never-coming response; by now, everyone knew Loki spoke only to Thor personally unless he had a purpose, and he never had a purpose with the billionaire that talked to him with conceit well matching his own.

"Is it the magician that concerns you?" asked the thunder god crouching down before the chair once they were left alone.

"No."

"Then who? Help me out, brother. Who could possibly cause you any harm in this tower?" He sighed against the stubborn silence. "Everyone will be in the meeting with me. Are you worried about Pepper maybe?"

Thor really couldn't solve the tight-mouthed, unbreathing headshake. It's been a mystery in the past days; when Thor would go on his own ways for a while, upon his return he'd find Loki's shirt buttoned higher, the ice cubes in his drink still fresh, the glass untouched most of the time. His warning over the consuming of fluids would meet a morose silence, and at times he'd have sworn he'd chosen a different drink before.

Even if his suspicion of the expecting lady was correct, Loki's vehement denial whenever it came up was too confusing for it to be that simple. Thor decided today that he wouldn't delay asking Pepper about it any further. 

Loki graciously let Thor get on with the day in the end, staying behind in the living room with a sigh that expressed how little the location mattered in his endless sufferings. Though Thor wouldn’t give in to such peskiness, he always felt uneasy when he left his brother at another point of the building, and Loki shamelessly goaded these feelings on.

"You promised not to have Loki break our crystals any more," Tony scolded him in the lab. "It's only been five days. For God's sake, let the guy get accustomed to not being the boss here. I'm almost quite certain he'll be much more usable then."

"Perhaps. I'm just worried because we don't have much longer here."

"You know, you can stay as long as you want, Thor. You're welcome even after our girl is born, if this is what helps."

"And I thank you for that. But I want to see Loki get cured so much. I know he wants the same as well."

"Anyone would, really," Bruce noted looking up at the god from a stack of printed data. "Is there a way at all to help him better than this, tough?"

"I do wish miracles could happen, my friend," Thor smiled sadly at the the scientist. "But I am afraid it's not entirely in our hands now."

Tony's glance at Bruce was long and meaningful; then, despite the scientist’s subtle head shake, he stepped up to the thunder god.

"What he means is: what's the point of fixing him if he won't use his limbs? With the utmost seriousness and the smallest possible offense. Thor, listen to me," he went on confidently under the heavy look. "Shuri can fix up everything in him, and he'll still stay in that wheelchair, you know that. Unless he's out of his little princess hiding, all the work is for nothing. So do what you came here for before you take him back. Snap him out of that shell. Take him outside, or whatever: if his mind isn't as screwed as I believe it is, he probably hates being locked up, like most people would. At this point, any occurrence has a chance to work. Doesn't the Loki-yoga help?"

"The what?"

With breath held in, Bruce turned away smoothly to avoid being mistaken as a participant in the matter, while Tony seemed to falter for a moment, his rapid blinking camouflaged his effort to find the perfect explanation.

"Well, you know, that thing you do to him in the morning, and this guy is welcome to interrupt our meetings any time he feels fit from now on."

"I'll be holding you to your word," Strange nodded in gratitude.

"As long as he has something usable to add," Tony went on with an expectant look at him.

"Don't be picky. But I do bring news, ones to support the matter of your debate. A message, in fact, from Wakanda.”

"And they're unfamiliar with emails?"

"The king found it safer to send it avoiding the cloud, respecting your wish to function out of Fury's sight."

"We haven't discussed the matter yet, you know," Bruce let him know precautiously.

"Oh." The magician's eyebrow's ran up. "Go ahead then, I'll wait."

"Spill it out," Tony sighed, "while your ethereal matters don't drive you away from us."

Stephen looked at him with light scorn for a mere few seconds before stepping over it.

"If you insist. SHIELD has fresh captives, most likely the intruders of your interest."

"How?" Bruce frowned.

"Observation and surprise. They moved more people than the Stark faction."

"I take that on," said the accused. "Our options are limited underground."

"I'll have to go see them then," Thor said.

"You can't," Tony protested. "They can't know we know, Thor."

Bruce stood before the god who was walking to the door heedlessly.

"If they find out, they'll take more serious measures to hide information from us," he explained, pleading. "Then we'll lose the chance to know what happens next, and we'll have no control over it whatsoever. Surely, you understand what it means for you, for Loki."

"That is no danger. I've been to many places, I can tell if those beings are connected to Loki in any way. Then SHIELD can do whatever they please."

"SHIELD is a machine, not people," Strange told him. "It won't be your friend like these guys are, even if your heart is in the matter."

"Fury is already suspicious," the billionaire added. "No need to goad him on."

"Maybe if you wouldn't display your resistance against him so brashly" Bruce muttered.

Tony threw up his arms with a smile.

"What can I do? He'd be more alert if I started acting nicely, wouldn't he? And there is still the matter we need to talk about," he walked after Thor once again. "Sorry for only letting you know now. It's my fault, I wanted you to come here before, I need a chance to convince you to work with us. But you still deserve to know before you decide."

Thor frowned, turning towards him.

"What have you kept from me?" He hoped it wasn't something he could have prevented.

"It's my fault," Tony repeated dryly, "Everyone else found me a meanie, I'll take it. So here's the thing. You can hear this in the news as independent massacres, but in truth, someone, or someones, are wandering around and killing certain groups of people."

Thor waited a minute in vain in the stretching silence.

"So... we're dealing with intruders that hate humans?"

"Almost," Tony said softly." Except that they're murdering former Asgardians."

"Mostly," Bruce added in hope to soften the truth.

"And humans that have been in contact with them."

"Which is just a supposition for now."

"I delayed telling you in fear that you won't want to leave your brother's side then. We haven't heard much from SHIELD for a while, and it made us suspect they might be more ahead at the matter than we'd expect. Now we know the reason, thanks to Strange, but we still may have a lot to catch up on."

The god frowned.

"You want me to leave the planet while my people here are getting executed?"

“They’re not just executing them," Stephen noted. He glanced at Tony whose arms formed a barrier of silent resistance, clearly rejecting any responsibility for the upcoming before he spoke up.

"They’re tortured before dying,”

The world darkened a shade around Thor.

“By what means?”

“Whatever means. You can find the signs of physical torture on them, burns, cuts, fractures, decapitation. But you can’t find the signs of mental torture on a corpse.”

"They're most likely interrogating them," Bruce muttered. "As if they'd be looking for something."

"They are. Even Levi is aware," Strange added. At the others' dumbfounded stare, he rolled his eyes. "It's my cloak."

"What kind of a whacko names his clothes?" Tony mused aloud.

"It's an artefact, and I didn't name it, Mr. Dummy."

"Hey, no need to drag the innocent into this."

"Nevertheless, Levi's interest in Loki gives me the assumption that he's got what we’re looking for.”

“What are _you_ looking for?” Thor asked.

“The same thing our targets are, naturally. If it's worth that many lives, it's essential that we get hold of it first."

"And Loki pocketed it, you think?"

"I think," the magician emphasised.

“Is it what you harassed him for?”

“Please, don’t use such harsh terms.”

"Do those murderers think so as well?"

"I don't know their stand."

"But you have your assumptions, I know your higher-minded kind," Tony interrupted. "Well, it's high time you spit them all out."

"I prefer not to, as my stand doesn't change anything at the current stage, Your Lordship."

"I, however, am royally fed up with your meaningful silences. Pray, share with us your humble opinion in advance, so we already have it when the right time comes."

"You're not going to put words into my mouth, Stark: if there's anything on your know-it-all mind, you take the blame."

"I take whatever I want. I choose our way to proceed based on everyone's pooled knowledge, Doc.”

“Enough,” Thor’s voice weighed over the rest of the conversation. “How certain are you that they’re after my brother?”

"Nothing is certain at this point," Bruce noted.

Thor looked at Strange instead of him.

"What makes _you_ think Loki has the same thing they need?"

"It's merely a guess," Strange admitted humbly. But no one in the room believed him, and Thor was the one stepping up closer to his undaunted figure.

"Tell me what you know."

The dark eyes returned his look without falter.

"What I know is… that there were many things in Asgard's vault, but not everything has been destroyed."

“I know most of the vault’s content," Thor pressed on, his voice forcibly kept meek. "I might be able to help locate it if you share whatever you know about the item.”

"I'm truly sorry, but I have nothing useful to share about that; except that it must have been saved from the consuming fire."

After a few seconds of silence, Thor turned away from him.

"I take it we don't know where to start looking," he pointed out. "SHIELD caught some, you say, so if I go and-"

"SHIELD is able to hold you back, you know, if you go against them," Tony interrupted. "What if the enemy comes for Loki while you're busy beating them off and we're not enough to defend him? What if he elopes because he doesn't trust us, and he hurts himself?"

"Really?" Bruce frowned at him now, resentment at the blackmailing attempt clear in his tone.

"Ironic how it isn't even my place to worry about that," the billionaire muttered.

Thor didn't respond, but his pace slowed down and allowed the others to keep up with him on the way out. The meeting disbanded, Strange disappeared without a word, and those who noticed didn't comment on it any more.

The thunder god noted a hint of doubt in himself; or simple wondering, maybe. Whether Asgard was still a country, now that the people had mingled into this planet's inhabitants. They may have been his people, but they weren't one nation any more. Does that still maintain his responsibility – his right – to protect them? Could he protect all without commanding them to gather once again, leaving behind everything they'd started to build up at places and times of their own respective choice?

"Hey, Point Break," Tony barged into his thoughts on the corridor towards the living areas. He waited until Thor confirmed his attention. "I was really hoping to persuade you on the space journey. But know that if you don't want to leave your brother's side, no grudge will be kept. Maybe a little."

"I wish for being able to help, and to stay on your side, as much as to look into the eyes of the one that has murdered those people. Only, I'm not sure I could leave now."

"What are you really afraid of?" asked the billionaire, this time without a teasing edge. "Did you believe it when I said we're no good for defending something important?"

As Thor didn't answer, Bruce did it for him.

"Maybe it's not us he doesn't trust."

They both sent him surprised looks, but the thunder god was the one to ask.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not saying you distrust your brother," Bruce reassured him. "I'm just guessing, based on what I've heard from you since he... arrived, that your worries are mostly about him being misunderstood. As a different being. I think even you aren't a hundred percent sure what we can expect from him once he's sufficiently restored, and that maintains the possibility of him doing something we, humans, don't know how to interpret."

This time, Tony stood between them before any response would have been made, displaying astonishment but staring up at the god like he himself was the larger one.

"You distrust the capacity of my tower?"

Thor opened his mouth to reply, then he reconsidered it and smiled.

"I don't. Maybe a little."

The billionaire smirked.

"Acceptable. So which truce are you calling?"

Thor understood that there was no time to delay answering, as idleness only let the vile circumstances to unfold. And none of his choices went without risking something precious. But before he'd have responded, they all perked up at once. He heard his brother call for him repeatedly, and the tone chilled the air, made blood rush out of his knees as he wondered if Loki's condition had worsened, if he'd suffered an accident, if he was going to be put back among those machines.

"Loki?" he called. "I'm coming, I'm here."

He was at the living room door in a breath.

And he frowned against the desperation in the crimson eyes, because it took time to decipher its contrast with the situation.

"Hey, how come I'm not first in line?" Tony bellowed glancing in above the thunder god's shoulder.

"You have your robots do it flawlessly, unlike me, remember?" Pepper responded unfazed, with Loki's bare foot in her lap apparently receiving a thorough massage.

"What? No way you're referring to the shoulder kneading a month ago.

"You're very stiff, darling," she groaned as she tried bending the grooved ankle, royally ignoring her spouse. "But don't worry, I'll help you get back into-"

"All right, that's it," Stark interrupted. "I'm not sharing you, Pepper, and especially not with him."

"There is no sharing of something you don’t possess, honey," said the woman with surprising tranquility for the topic.

Meanwhile, Bruce slipped into the room beside them and touched the woman's shoulders.

"Either way, Pepper, you should definitely stop labouring to bend him, or you might start bearing your child early on. We've got tools to do such extort, you know that."

"And why aren't you using them then?" she snapped.

"Because he doesn't need it," Tony let her know, moving closer. "Thor's here to keep him fresh and crisp.”

She didn't protest when the billionaire removed the foot from her lap and took her hands to help her stand up, then letting her go on her suddenly urgent way to the bathroom.

"What thing?" Loki inquired, and it took a while for them to catch up on what he meant, the air tensing up at the same moment.

"I'm handling it, you don't need to fear anything, brother," Thor let him know touching his shoulder.

"Anything?"

"There is nothing threatening you here. Pepper's got the kindest intentions, too, but even if she hadn't, she's a common human, you must have noticed. How come you didn't scare her away?" Thor wondered aloud.

"Perhaps he's afraid to even breathe at her and get punished if anything happens to her," Bruce guessed.

"Good, good," Tony nodded with satisfaction, his look seeking confirmation on Loki's stubbornly closed features. "A fine start for cooperation."

"What thing? Is it I?" Loki asked, strictly of Thor, making Tony snort.

"Will you look at that book-smart? How could we ever hide that all things at all times revolve around him?"

“Is it I?” the Jotunn repeated ignoring him, tossing each word at the thunder god with force.

“Do not worry about it, brother,” was Thor’s simple answer while he turned away to get busy at the bar.

When Bruce walked over as well, the scientist made a quiet pacifying attempt.

"You know, I have a hunch that he’d cooperate better if he knew of-... the matter that he wants to know."

“All it would do is help him complicate things as soon as he’s capable,” Thor reassured him.

“In all honesty, I was surprised he fought on our side when your sister ruined your home. I haven't known what to think of him ever since. Wouldn’t he want to help you? Defend your, his, people?”

“I don’t know. I think he would.”

“So not even you can tell if he’s got a spine? I mean, yeah, he was mean at the New York attack, but supposedly, it was the effect of that rod. So, how is he in reality, Thor? Not worth a breath?”

Tony arrived to them with a quiet laugh as he caught the last line, and he fiddled with glasses, meanwhile glancing over their shoulders at the abandoned trickster.

“A drink for the prince?” he asked loudly.

“No.”

While the other two digested their surprise at the actual response, swift and firm, Tony acted it out with a silent, astonished pout of his lips. And the matter was settled.

“Are you really debating whether our protégé is black or white?” he asked next in a mockingly trustful voice. “And if he’s checkered like anyone in general? Then what, does that make it strategically affordable to let him in the clique?”

“We’re not letting him in anything,” Thor pointed out.

“Well, you’ve accepted _me_ ,” Bruce muttered on a side note, “even though my monster-half isn't excessively bent on helping out either.”

A brooding silence followed the note, mixed with the pouring of drinks.

Thor craved to head out, find the assassins and finish them, but he was also reluctant to leave Loki here. ( _Your task will be to stand by him_ , he heard the African woman's words from his memories.) The two brothers had left each other to themselves in trouble before, not once. But Loki was never in this state. Thor only knew now what he had always taken for granted, as anyone else would have: the trust in his brother taking care of himself just perfectly. Right now, this trust was absent. The thought of leaving Loki in the hands of these humans or the Wakandans filled Thor with worry similar to worry for his brother stopping to breathe while he wasn’t watching.

"I'm sorry, I'm not leaving for now," he told the billionaire then, not seeing Loki perk up at the words behind him.

“Your choice,” Tony shrugged while dealing the drinks; he didn’t find it necessary to warn that the trickster could hear everything. “Earth perishes, you go and find another to watch over, no biggie.”

"A little more time," Thor pleaded him quietly.

"What I said back there, it was just my usual sass, you know that, right?" Tony told him quieter. "I don't mean to let him be harmed needlessly. If he's your friend, then he's... my friend's friend," he flinched as he was unable to utter honestly what he wanted, and he patted Thor's shoulder in encouragement. "Stark's friend's friend. That's also pretty much of a life insurance."

“I thank you for that.”

"Plus, this is a place seemingly unknown to the enemy: they can't know about the Avengers or SHIELD, or they'd have looked here first. If indeed they're looking for him."

“Only, he can't heal here.”

“Sad but true. And, well, Wakanda is even better at staying away from publicity.” Tony leaned back and noted louder: “Take your baby brother for a walk, Thor,”

"Yes," Loki agreed unexpectedly, leaving the thunder god no other choice.

He guessed that the trickster desired to be away from the people he still seemed stiff around; and that he might have needed some relaxing time, especially since he showed clear resentment for his latest unwilled meeting with Pepper. After the week passed here, he might even have missed his big brother's attention on himself, Thor thought with a hint of conceit. So he complied and took the Jotunn out into the windless summer. He initiated light chatters to appease him after that morning’s atrocities, and in hope to prevent Loki asking about the threat again, while they walked in a clearing on concrete road, with trees on one side, square and indented storage gates on the other.

"Thor."

The thunder god waited for the expectable command, somewhat impatient for his brother to improve finally and cease to torment him with these worries.

"I'm a fool," came the announcement, causing Thor to spend but a moment on surprise.

"You don't say," he muttered.

"What is it? _Fo_ _ol_."

"It means someone who does foolish things,” Thor replied, straining to sound like he didn’t find the suddenly arriving questions strange. “Someone who makes bad decisions. You’re quite good at that, I guess you are one."

"You are one."

"Yeah, perhaps me too. Sometimes."

"I. I'm a fool. At Thanos.”

“Don’t worry about him," Thor muttered. "He’s dead.”

The following silence could have been anything from surprise to disbelief, or the lack of both.

“I was incautious,” Loki said then suddenly. “Because… I was… because it’s my fault. Thanos to have the stone.”

The thunder god was torn between awing at the lengthy phrase heard, and the imbecility of the comment. Before he could have chosen a response of praise or disagreement, he was gotten ahead, and he held his breath back to listen to the row of sentences told with long thinking breaks among them.

“Stone perishes in Asgard, he loses it. Forever. But I believed it’s… it has good use. With me. I go and give in to one more greed. And when I knew what a huge mishap– no, _mistake_ it is… When I knew that I can choose the good this time, but my past haunts and it – it makes the downfall of you… I was _desperate_.”

"Desperate?" Thor repeated the dramatically stressed word.

“My deed there, it is not composed, or thought-out. I want-… My deed should be more enraging, so he tears me up, and I do not live.”

"You and your constant drama," Thor spat, ruffled from the unwanted imagery. "What use could your death have been?"

"Calming."

"Sure, Loki. Try justifying it some more, see how calm I can be from it."

The nonchalant hum Loki gave made the thunder god suspect that it wasn't over.

"It's true," pressed the Jotunn accordingly. "Thanos angers. He kills one, he calms. He goes and you can live."

"Nonsense."

Thor forcefully held onto the belief that Loki was only making this up. He had just admitted that he wasn't thinking straight anyway.

“I’m a fool, Thor.”

“Yes, you are. End of story."

The Jotunn’s look was fixed on top of the nearby trees; his voice was slightly absent, his words slow as if carefully chosen.

“Thor, I speak to you. Are you appeased?”

The thunder god unwittingly sighed at the demand for admiration.

“I can’t deny I am glad to hear your voice for such a long time, but not this gibberish.”

“Now you speak to me. You kill him?”

“I do not wish to relive that time, brother."

“Speak to me," Loki demanded. "How did you?”

“It’s hard to describe. And I really don't want to."

“He come? You go?”

Thor sighed at the other's insistence, closing his eyes for a moment. Loki did deserve to know if he was curious, he thought, and he pushed against his own reluctance to find words.

“Neither and both. Had you witnessed it, you might be able to explain it better. It’s really just a mess of time and space and others in my memories now.”

“It hurts?”

“Not really. I don’t know.”

“With what? Who? Where?”

“I was alone. Maybe. I had... strange experiences. Like people from all times and places had been guiding my arms and legs. It feels like I met those whom I’d lost before.”

“Yes, it hurts. Why does it?”

“Why are you asking these, Loki?”

“Because I do not know. I was not there.”

He had been, actually: Thor knew but chose to stay silent about it. He had met the child Loki, the younger brother that dreamed of becoming a Giant at the time when he himself planned to be a Valkyrie. The past had called to him during that battle to entrap him, it had called so strongly he felt the strings of his heart rip and the shivering muscle stay there as he pulled away.

A cold sensation on the back of his hand interrupted his thoughts. A drop on his hair, his shoulder through the shirt, several on his bare arms. He was aware by the time he looked up, that the storm suddenly getting free was his own doing. Or Loki’s, if he looked at it that way. He knew right away: the vile trickster had just clawed into his soul with the purpose, not of finding out about the fall of his tormentor, but of getting what he had so desired from the start.

It wasn’t the first time of one brother drawing the other’s blood, so while still puzzling it together, he already ran towards the row of gates for shelter.

“No, Thor!”

“No arguments, you witch,” Thor grunted. “I won’t have you catch a cold, or this metallic chair struck accidentally, for that matter.”

“No cold, Thor,” Loki yelled through the roar of the water drops. “It is good! This is good, Thor, so good, immensely good!”

It sounded to the thunder god’s deceiving ears like a compliment. But voicing it wasn’t even necessary, because Thor could see his brother’s entire body change back into the Loki he had grown up with. His still powerless lower arms stretched out to the side over the armrests with fingers bent in, relishing the wind of the run over his entire upper body, the chilled drops beating on the bare skin of his arms, through the shirt on his chest, on his closed eyelids as he leaned back onto the headrest among the trees bending and twisting in the orcane, their leaves hanging downwards from the hammering of the water drops.

When they reached a gate and stopped under the embayment, they were both heaving; Loki kept his head on the backrest, eyes closed as his posture loosened but still stayed, like he was craving it back, the remaining raindrops running downwards all over him, and he was smiling, smiling through his agitated breaths.

Thor watched the phenomenon through the curtain of water drops falling from his trimmed hair, afraid to blink and miss a moment of it.

When the atmosphere calmed down a bit, he wiped most of the water off his dripping beard and hair, and just for the hell of it or to annoy him back, he used both hands to do the same to Loki’s raven locks, reaching down from behind and combing them backwards with one movement before the sorcerer could have uttered a sound of protest. Since he was late anyway, Loki didn’t comment; instead, he bent his head in silence for water to get off his face.

Thor leaned to the wall next to the wheelchair, and they stared out into the pouring rain, waiting, while Loki's skin slowly paled back into the silver-blue Jotunn's.

The thunder got crouched down, because it was annoying to constantly be so much above the other; especially when he wanted to speak to him as someone equal. It was the first time he felt this as a necessary adjustment, he thought. But instead of delving into it, he said what was on his mind before he'd have time to think about it and retreat.

“Asgard, brother, how much do you remember?” he asked, somewhat hoarse.

The crimson made it difficult to decipher feelings in those eyes, but they watched him intently now, and Thor might have been biased but he saw sadness in it.

“Asgard is gone,” he went ahead and blurted it out heavily at last. “Did you know?”

“Asgard,” Loki said softly. “Asgard is not-… Asgard is… a people.”

The thunder god rewarded the effort with reaching over, his palm sliding behind his brother’s neck.

“Then Asgard is you and me now. Nothing else.”

“Fandral,” mumbled the sorcerer, glancing up at the thunder god, his forehead wrinkled from it. “Hogun, Volstagg.”

“They’re gone.”

“Fandral, Hogun, Volstagg?”

“They’re gone, brother.”

“Where?”

“To Valhalla.”

After a few seconds’ silence, the sorcerer forgot the rigorous expression, his eyebrows ran up and he took a sharp breath.

“Niflheim.”

“No. They’re in Valhalla for sure.”

Loki placed his fist, with the bent fingers, to his own chest; his look bore into Thor’s.

“I know. Niflheim.”

“You’ve been there?”

Loki turned forward and thought long, then his answer was rather faint.

“Yes.”

“Hel is part of Niflheim. Are you thinking you were sent to Hel?”

“No, Niflheim.”

Thor didn’t entirely believe it despite the insistent tone, and so he tried to help.

“Perhaps you dreamed it.”

“No, Thor.”

“Then maybe you mistook it.”

“I know!”

“I know you must have a mess among your memories now,” the thunder god reasoned patiently. “But your wit remains the same. You know you couldn’t have gotten here from that realm so simply.”

“ _You_ dream. You are one. A fool.”

It had taken fifteen hundred years to learn, but by now Thor knew better than to argue with a sulking Loki. So he nodded faintly and left it at that.

“We’ll see in time,” he reassured his brother while pushing the chair out under the tepidly dripping sky, onto the lukewarm concrete path towards the central tower.

Loki ignored the thunder god’s existence from then on, along with everyone else’s, just like before. He turned his head away from Thor that evening as well, when they retreated for their nightly recluse. Tomorrow, Thor told himself with jaw tense on his pillow; tomorrow they would both start with a clearer head, and thus with a more distinct effort at breaking that seal, he hoped.


End file.
